


i don't always learn the first time

by wonderboi



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Teen Pines, Twincest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:00:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22749724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderboi/pseuds/wonderboi
Summary: Stanley notices his brother is having nightmares and acting strange. He doesn't know if that's a good thing or not.Stanford tries again. He'll do better this time. For Stanley.
Relationships: Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Ford Pines/Stan Pines
Comments: 51
Kudos: 132





	1. only just begun

**Author's Note:**

> second gf fic! first multichapter. im used to writing quick one shots..... and smut lol. there will probably be smut later, when i figure out how to write.

It had been… uncomfortable to watch. Stanley had seen his twin have nightmares before, but nothing like this. It started with whimpering - immediately waking Stanley up in the middle of the night - and then it only got worse. He watched Stanford struggle with the covers like they were trying to choke him. Whimpers morphed into muttered words. 

Stanley didn't want to admit it, but he had hesitated waking up Stanford. When the crying started, Stan was already halfway across their room before he was fully awake, but then he had heard his name. Stanford had said his name while sleeping and it made him freeze in his tracks. It made him feel sick with guilt. He made his twin suffer through another five minutes of his nightmare just so Stanley could make sure that he actually said his name. 

But then he started screaming, and all of that hesitation was thrown out the window. 

"Sixer? Ford..?" Stanley called his name gently, quietly, so that their parents wouldn't hear. "You with me yet?" 

Stanford blinked and looked at Stanley - really looked at him - for the first time that night. When he finally spoke it was quietly and with a scared tinge that broke Stan's heart. "S… Stanley…?" 

"Yeah, it's me. You okay?" 

"I…" Ford looked so lost. It made Stan's chest constrict. Stanford opened and closed his mouth a few times. When he tried to sit up, Stan let him and moved out of the way. His eyes roamed around their room like he had never seen it before. 

"... Stanford?" he tried again. 

"Sorry," Ford whispered. "I just…" 

"Bad dream?" 

"... You could say that." 

"You wanna… You wanna talk about it?" 

"It… It started off good, but then…" Ford trailed off and stared at the wall. After a minute of silence, Stan figured that he wouldn't get much else out of his brother. He wished that Ford would talk to him more. 

"Whatever it was, it's over now," Stanley shifted until he was sitting next to Ford, putting an arm around him. He tried to ignore how that made his twin flinch. 

The only thing Stanford did was stare past the wall and mutter. Stanley could barely make out what he said, and the only thing he could parse was his brother repeating what he had said: 'It's over now.' 

"Was it another nightmare where you flunked a test? Or was it the one where you go to gym in your underwear?" Stanley tried to coax something out of his twin. Anything. "You know if that ever happens, I'll just give you _my_ pants, bro. I'm okay going pants-less. Everyone already saw my red heart boxers when that pen exploded in my lap last year." 

That seemed to get a small smile out of Stanford. It wasn't much, and it was hard to see in the dark, but it still made Stanley's heart soar. He would kill a man if it made Ford happy. 

"Thanks, Stanley," Stanford finally said, his voice thick with emotion. "I think I feel better now." 

"Really…? Good!"

They both sat there in silence for an unknown amount of time. It might have been a split second or it might have been a millennia. Stan didn't know what to say to his brother to comfort him - or if he needed comfort at all. They used to be so close… but as they neared the end of their senior year, communication was getting difficult. Stanford was too focused on school to work on the boat - to do anything else but study. 

Too focused to spend any time with Stanley. 

"So… Uhm," Stanley mumbled awkwardly. "Now that you're feeling better, I guess I should go back to my bed… It's not like we're kids anymore, can't lay here all night-" 

"You could!" Ford blurted out, contrary to his previous fatigue and the heavy atmosphere. "I mean - you could stay here. If you wanted. In my bed - with me." 

Stanley's heart did a little tap dance. "I thought you thought it was childish." 

"Yes, well… I changed my mind," Ford fiddled with his hands. It was a nervous habit he had had since they were kids. "Besides, there's nothing wrong with being childish every once in a while." 

A part of Stanley's brain noticed and tagged his twin's words as strange. This entire year he had been going on and on about how they needed to act mature and start thinking about their future. 

That part was swiftly kicked to the curb by the rest of his brain, which screamed at him to stop looking a gift horse in the mouth. Stanley smiled warmly. "Okay, Sixer. Whatever you want."

The two Pines shuffled around in the bed that was truly too small to fit both growing boys until they were laying together. Stanley didn't want to push his luck, so he kept his hands to himself even as he lay face to face with Ford. 

Face to face with the person he loved most. 

He tangled his fingers in the sheets instead, to keep himself occupied. A six-fingered hand was only a few centimetres away. He could take a deep breath and their skin would touch. He wouldn't let that happen. One wrong step and Ford would change his mind. He would realize that this was weird. He would tell Stan to go back to his own bed.. 

"Stanley…" Ford murmured. The sound made Stan jolt out of his own thoughts. 

"Y-Yeah? What's up, Sixer?" 

"Could you…" Ford went quiet in the middle of his request, as if he was too afraid to put it forward. It was too dark to see his face and know what he was thinking. If only Stan could see, then he would know for sure. He waited patiently - politely. In fact, he waited so long that he was starting to get drowsy before Stanford continued. He spoke in a voice so quiet that Stanley almost didn't hear him, even with their faces being mere inches apart. "Could you hold me?" 

That definitely woke Stanley up. His eyes shot open and he tried to make his quick inhale of breath quiet - but he wasn't sure if he succeeded. He was sure that if he opened his mouth he would stutter and say something stupid, like he always did. 

So instead he just wiggled closer to his twin and wrapped an arm over him. Ford let out a breath and seemed to deflate. Had he been holding it? Had he been as nervous as Stanley? The thought made Stan pull his brother closer until they rested chest to chest, Ford's face pressed into Stan's neck. The feeling of breath on his skin made goosebumps break out. 

Was it a twin thing? To feel like two puzzle pieces fitting together? To feel like two halves of a whole? Surely other twins didn't feel rapturous when they held their sibling close. Surely they didn't feel like the entire world was ending and being reborn within their arms. 

Maybe it was just Stanley that felt this way.

* * *

The following Monday, Stanley noticed his twin acting strangely. 

It was common for Stanford to get lost in his own thoughts, to zone out and stare at something that wasn't there while his brain went a thousand miles per hour. Stanley usually liked to startle him out of it with a hearty clap to the shoulder or a noogie. Ford would squawk and push back and they would devolve into the kind of slap fight only siblings could have. 

But Stanford didn't do that. When Stanley surprised him he only jolted out of his thoughts and… smiled. No protests, no denials, no nothing. The first time, Stanley just figured his brother was tired. On the fifth he knew something was up. 

It wasn't new for Stanford to change behaviour, with his new lease on life to grow up rapidly, so Stanley let that one go. He also let go of the fact that Stanford was straight up doing push-ups in the morning and before bed, because he had always talked about getting stronger. Surely it just meant that Stanford was doing something about it instead of just talking shit. 

It was Monday that really threw Stanley for a loop. 

"Hey, bro. Why aren't you ready yet?" 

Stanley stood at their bedroom door with his backpack slung over one shoulder (it was mostly for show. There weren't any books in there except comics and sketch pads). The fact that he was ready to go to school while his goody two-shoes twin lay on his bed made him feel like he had walked into the Twilight Zone. 

"Hm? Oh, right. School," Stanford said absent-mindedly. "I'm not going today." 

"What?!" Stanley gaped. "You?? Skipping school?" 

"You play hooky all the time, I don't see why it's a big deal." 

Stanley acted affronted, but there was a proud grin plastered onto his face. "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?" he said jokingly. 

Apparently it was the wrong thing to say. Stanford jolted from his relaxed pose on the bed, rolling from his stomach to his side and fumbling with his book. There was a split second where he looked pale, but as he caught the humorous expression on Stanley he seemed to relax. "Oh! Yes, ha ha. Good one, Stanley." 

"... Right," Stanley was used to his brother being weird. "Well if you're ditching… I'm gonna, too." 

"You don't have to -" 

"You kiddin'? And let my freshly rebellious phase twin go out on his own? Not a chance!" 

Ford smiled softly, warmer than he had been smiling lately. "... Thank you." 

Stanley wasn't good at mushy stuff, so he dropped his bag on the floor and came over to give his brother a noogie. Ford just laughed and batted at him gently. 

Maybe change wasn't so bad, after all. 

"So!" Stanley clapped his hands together. "This is your first time skipping… Where do ya wanna go?" 

"Well, it's a beautiful day outside," Stanford smiled at his twin. "Don't you think it's perfect weather to work on the Stan o' War?" 

Stanley's heart did a backflip. It had been weeks since they worked on the boat. He was tempted to pinch himself and make sure he wasn't dreaming - not in front of Stanford, though. When he got a moment to himself. On second thought… if this was a dream, he didn't want to wake up. 

"Y-Yeah! Let's do it!" Stanley scrambled to grab the meager toolbox under his bed. 

He missed the look that Ford wore behind his back.

* * *

Stanley had had the same beaming grin painted on his face all day, even with the sun burns on the back of his neck and shoulders. Sure, he had known that he missed working on the boat, but it didn't really sink in until today. 

Normally he was the one who had the most enthusiasm for rebuilding the Stan o' War, but Stanford had showed him up good. He had brought a notepad and pen and spent the first two hours noting down a to-do list. Early on he was mumbling to himself, but when Stanley prodded him for his thoughts the metaphorical dam burst. 

Ford went on and on about everything they needed to do before the Stan o' War was seaworthy (and passable by any kind of inspection). "We need to replace the wood here because it got damaged by the ice last winter, and then of course we need to repaint it - not to mention matching the colour to the rest of it. I know we talked about having Her be entirely sail powered but I think we should rethink the need for an engine even just for emergencies--"

"Woah woah! Where'd all this come from? Not that I'm complaining…" 

Stanford turned a bit pinker than he already was from the sun. "I just - I read a book recently on boats and felt inspired." 

"Is that why you wanted to play hooky today?" 

Pink turned to red. "... Maybe." 

"Skipping school, working on the boat… this isn't like you, Sixer." 

At least Stanford looked somewhat guilty at that. "Is- is that bad?" 

"Might even say you're--" Stanley grinned mischievously - then his eyes widened and his jaw dropped in some realization. "Oh my God -- I know why you're acting like a different person today!" 

Stanford looked pale and he fumbled with the notepad in his hands. "Wh-what?? No I'm not!" 

Stan jabbed an accusatory finger at his twin's face. "You're dying, aren't you??" 

Ford opened and closed his mouth like a fish. 

"This is just like what happened on mom's show!" Stanley kept going. "Some guy found out he had cancer, so he went and was nice to everyone. I thought it was so stupid that he didn't tell anyone and no one could tell when he was acting so weird! I told myself that if that ever happened, I'd know the signs and confront them! That's why you're suddenly skipping and stuff! You're dying!!!"

Ford laughed at his brother for a good ten minutes straight, holding his sides and begging for mercy when Stanley didn't drop the conspiracy theories. By the end of it there were tear tracks on his face and he groaned in pain from laughing so long. He looked at Stanley with a face that was flushed and a smile that outshone the sun. 

Hours later, when the sun began to dip below the horizon and painted the sky in pinks, Stanley and Stanford Pines lay on the splinter-full deck of their boat. Their arms brushed gently, barely. Stanley wanted to hold his brother’s hand like he did when they were younger. There were a lot of things he wanted to do that weren’t acceptable now that they were teens. Holding hands, hugging, cuddling -- the list went on. His fingers itched. He could not tell if it was from sunburn or the urge to touch Stanford.

“We got a lot done today,” he said instead.

“We did,” Stanford replied without looking. They were both gazing at the sky as sunset made it change colour.

“I had fun.”

“Me too.”

“I’m glad you skipped today,” Stanley mentally hit himself as he realized what he sounded like. “I mean - I’m not glad that you’re gonna be stressing about school and homework and stuff, but I’m glad you let yourself go today.”

“I know what you mean,” Stanford thankfully stopped his twin from digging that hole any deeper. “And I’m glad, too. Don’t worry about me too much. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll always worry about you. I love you,” Stanley turned the same shade as the sunset they watched. “Uh, bro.” Nailed it.

“I…” he knew the sound of Stanford fumbling for words. It was one of his favourites. Then again - everything Stanford did was Stanley’s favourite. “I love you too, Stanley. I know I don’t say it much, but I do.”

Stanley had to tone down his smiling a bit or else the next person who saw his face would think he was crazy or something. His cheeks hurt - in a good way. His chest hurt too, but he didn’t know if it was good or bad. Good, maybe. 

“Thanks for spending your first hooky day with me.”

“What else would I do?” Stanford asked with a chuckle, like it was obvious. It wasn’t obvious to Stanley.

“I dunno,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Work on the science fair project, maybe.”

As the words left his mouth the first cold breeze of the evening swept over the boat. Stanley shivered as he felt goosebumps break out over his exposed skin, still sensitive from the sun. The sky was barely darkening, but somehow the chill remained. He looked over at Ford.

Ford wasn’t smiling anymore. 

“Sixer?” Stanley said. “Uh, you okay?”

He didn’t understand. They were having a nice moment less than a second ago. Did he say something wrong? Was Stanford finally starting to stress about skipping school? Stan was surprised it had taken this long.

“Hey, it’ll be fine,” he tried to comfort his twin. “Your project is basically done anyways. I’m sure you’ll get first prize again this year with all the tinkering and triple-checking you’ve been doing. You worried about it or something?”

“No. I’m not." Stanford said blankly. It was the first time Stanley had heard him talk about his project with anything but excitement or nervousness. 

"Then, uh, what's wrong? You don't look so good." 

"Nothing is wrong." 

"Come on, don't pull that with me. I know you." 

But maybe that wasn't true anymore. They had changed, little by little, since starting senior year. Were they different people now? Was Stanley still gazing at his brother? 

They used to know each other inside and out. When did that change? 

Stanford deflated, caught in a fib, and Stan found himself relaxing. At least he still knew his twin. "You're right… But it's nothing important. I'm just worried." 

"Of course it's important! It's you!" Stanley said. He caught sight of a blush on Ford's cheeks before he turned away. "You can tell me anything." 

"Anything?" 

Stanford sounded… different again. Like he was somewhere else, talking to someone else. Like he had the entire world on his shoulders. 

"Yeah, Sixer," Stan said easily. "Just tell me where the body is and I'll take care of it." 

That seemed to bring a smile to Stanford's face again. He had worded it like a joke, but they both knew that Stanley was one-hundred percent serious about it. _You and me, forever._

"Thanks, Stanley," Ford said. "I'll tell you about it tonight, okay? I need to get my thoughts in order." 

"Take your time. I'll always be ready to listen."

* * *

Stanford had gone to bed early - or so he said. He ducked out of watching television with Stanley even though there was a cheesy horror movie marathon happening. It wasn't like him at all. Then again, Stan hadn't seen him working on school stuff all day. Maybe he was doing that. 

Normally he wouldn't think twice about chilling out in the living room while his twin worked on boring homework, but after the great day they had had he wanted to return the favour. Stanley cracked open the fridge and put together some egg salad sandwiches for them both. He balanced the plate and two pitt colas in one arm and used the other to open the door of their room. 

The sight he found inside very nearly made him drop the entire meal on the ground. 

Stanford knelt on the only clear patch of floor. Every other inch of their room was covered in shredded pieces of paper. On closer inspection they weren't just pieces of paper, but notes. Notes upon notes taken with a steady hand. What wasn't notes were blueprints and sketches of some kind. Of which machine Ford built, Stanley didn't know. 

Until he watched his brother pick up one of the last intact pictures of his perpetual motion machine and rip it down the middle. 

"What are you doing??!!" Stanley yelled. He scrambled to put the food down before he dove for his twin, grabbing his arms before he could do anymore damage. "Sixer! Ford - stop!!" 

Stan prided himself on being the stronger of the two of them, but his brother wasn't fighting back like normal - he was acting like an animal. He yanked himself away from Stanley and lunged for a notebook, tearing it apart a handful of pages at a time until Stan grabbed him again. 

"Cut it out!! You're destroying your project!" 

Stanford opened his mouth for the first time and said in a hateful voice _"Good."_

"Huh -? No! That's _not_ good!" The two of them wrestled some more, Ford slipping one arm free and using his teeth to tear out more of the notebook before he was restrained again. "What is wrong with you?!" 

Stanley makes the mistake of shaking his twin, hoping that it would knock whatever gears in his brain back into place. Instead Stanford got an animalistic look in his eyes and knocked their heads together. Stars burst behind Stan's eyes and he grunted in pain - fuck, that hurt bad. His grip loosened enough for Ford to escape and he scampered away. As he rested on the palms of his hands, he could hear his twin tear the rest of his notebook apart. 

_"All your fault,"_ Stanford hissed, the sound making Stan's insides shudder. "Everything is all _your_ fault." 

For a terrifying moment, Stanley thought that Ford was talking to him. It passed in the blink of an eye as the stars in his eyes cleared. He watched Ford scramble under his bed and drag out his invention, spitting hateful blame the entire time. 

"Ford, wait--" 

But Stanley's words barely made it out of his mouth before Stanford brought his fists down upon the helpless machine. Punches rained down upon it, uncaring that the material was hard enough to split the skin. 

Stan burst back into action at the sight of blood. He tackled his twin full-on, just like he saw the football players do when their father hogged the television. It knocked the air out of Ford in a breathless _oof_ as they landed on his bed. 

"Sixer, please!" Stanley begged, having used up all other options. 

"I need to destroy it!" Ford growled. "I need to--!" 

_"You're hurting yourself!"_

Stanford stilled. Stan was gripping onto him tightly, like he could slip away if he relaxed a single muscle. The ache of his flesh and bones being compressed barely registered. All he could focus on was the watery sound of his beloved twin's voice. 

"Please," Stanley said, quieter. "Your hands… You'll hurt your hands." 

He raised his forearms to look at his hands for the first time that night. Stanford's knuckles were busted up badly from punching metal and plastic. It reminded him of when Stanley fought for him - when the blood on his knuckles and in his teeth were contrary to his big grin. 

And here he was, protecting Ford. Again. 

"Stanley…" Ford murmured. His throat was constricted with emotions. It hurt. 

Stanley didn't say anything. He moved his grip slightly so that it turned from a pin to a hug. Warmth washed over Ford and he could feel tears prick at his eyes. 

"Oh, Stanley…" Stanford buried his face into his brother's neck. 

They stayed that way for an unknowable amount of time..

* * *

Stanley looked at the machine on the floor, watching it as if he expected it to move again. 

It stayed motionless.

His twin brother was curled up against his side, drool pooling on Stan’s shoulder with one arm and leg outstretched over top of him. He wanted to drown himself in the feeling. He had missed sleeping together - a fad that had ceased at age thirteen. Stanford’s warmth was like coming home, more so than actually walking through the door of their house. Stanley felt like he belonged here, in Ford’s arms.

Yet all he could focus on was the pitiful machine on the floor next to Stanford’s bed. He hadn’t gotten a good look at it (not that he would know what he was looking at in the first place), but he knew it was screwed. Most of the bigger outside pieces were unscathed except for a few dents, but all of the visible delicate pieces were turned into scrap. It was like looking at an intricate lego spaceship that had been thrown to the ground. One could see the pieces and know how much work went into it, but not where the components went. 

Why had Stanford done that? After they had finished holding each other, Ford was basically halfway asleep. There was no way Stan was getting any answers out of him. It was a miracle that he had been able to pry himself away from Ford’s intense koala grip in the first place, when he tried to get a wet cloth and clean his brother’s bloody hands. It had broken his heart - hearing Ford whimper and beg him to stay. 

He had been gushing about his machine and the science fair for weeks. Why would he destroy it now? Not only destroy it, but in such a violent way. Stanley could still feel the heat radiating off of Ford’s injured hands under the blanket. If Ford was frustrated with one of his inventions, the most he did was stomp around and shake his notebook as if it had the answers. He was meticulously gentle with his machines.

Stanley pulled his gaze away from the cold, dead machine and looked at his brother instead. Like this, it was hard to imagine the mental breakdown he had just had. His face was so relaxed and peaceful, his lips partially open as he breathed softly. Not for the first time, Stan caught himself staring at them. Was it a narcissistic thing? To be so obsessed with your twin’s - the mirror image of yourself - lips? 

Stan may have been dumb, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew what this was. There were no misconceptions about what he was feeling and whom he was feeling it for. He had known it for a long time. Stanley was brash, loud, outgoing, and larger than life. His mom called him a ‘free-spirit’, and he acted like it. In most situations, Stan wouldn’t hesitate to be brutally honest about his feelings on the matter.

But he was fine keeping quiet about This. He was happy. Stanley loved his twin brother, Stanford, and he was perfectly okay with never telling him. He didn’t _need_ Ford to be romantic or lovey-dovey with him. As long as he had him by his side, he was happy.

It was enough.

* * *

That scream. 

Stanford could never forget that scream. 

It dominated his ears, overwhelming the sound of sizzling flesh. He could feel it rush into his skull as if he had his head dunked into freezing water, flooding his ear canals. The scream haunted his dreams. It echoed in the waking world if he ever let himself think of home.

(Because thinking of home meant thinking of _him,_ and thinking of him meant remembering -) 

And the smell.

It was familiar in the same way that the trenches were if one played make-believe army as a child. Stanford knew the scent of burnt fabric from when he was younger and had tried to experiment with his mother's hair dryer; he knew it from college when an unfortunate classmate had set their lab coat ablaze. Now it was only an accessory to the smell of burning flesh. A distant part of him, huddling in the dark corner of his (insane) mind, had compared the scent to pork. 

(He has been unable to eat pork since. Whether it was meat from an animal that resembled a pig in an unfamiliar dimension or the real thing, the scent made him lose his appetite.) 

It clogged his nose now, just as the scream bounced off the cement walls of the basement endlessly. Stanford was kicking his brother - now stepping on him, pressing his back into the hot brand. He tried to get off of him, but he couldn't move. He tried to speak, but the smell forced itself into his mouth and down his throat, choking him. 

Then he wasn't holding his brother to the brand, but instead holding the brand to his brother. He stood on the small of Stanley's back and held a molten metal brand to his exposed skin. Stanley was screaming. Begging him to stop. Apologizing. Stanford couldn't remember what he was apologizing for.

"I… I didn't mean to…" 

Suddenly he was holding the brand to Stanley's face, and everything was impossibly worse. 

**"NO!"**

Stanford was being held, being shaken awake. His hands flew to his captor's wrists and squeezed down until he felt the bones inside creak. 

"Woah there, Sixer. When did you get a grip like that?" came a familiar voice. "Are you okay? Say something..." 

“Stanley…” he exhaled, releasing the air held in his chest and the death grip he had on his twin.

“Yeah. S’me,” Stanley smiled down at him. The sight almost washed the entire nightmare away. Almost

“Did I hurt you?” Ford maneuvered his brother’s hands to try and look at them in the dark.

“Nah, I’m good. It’ll take more than that to hurt me.”

“I know, but I still worry…”

“Don’t, I’m fine,” Stanley slipped his wrists out of Ford’s grasp and instead held his hand. “You have another nightmare?”

“Y-Yes…” the phantom smell of pork wafted over Ford’s nose and he breathed through his mouth instead. It didn’t work.

“Wanna tell me about it?”

“No.”

The promise Ford made to not keep secrets anymore was with another Stanley.

“Okay,” he shrugged. “We don’t gotta talk about it now.”

Stanley slipped his hand out of Ford’s so that he could cup his cheek instead. 

“But I’ll be here when you wanna.”

Ford couldn’t stop himself from leaning into his brother’s hand even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. He thought about his dream. He thought about his future - _their_ future. Past Stanley’s face he could make out the dark silhouette of his perpetual motion machine.

He thought about the future they wouldn’t have anymore, and was glad.

“I know.”


	2. lost in yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley tries to cheer his brother up.
> 
> Stanford get's started on the first step of his plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo if i typoed anything or w/e gimme a shout out because i didnt review before i posted it lol

_"And until **you** make us a fortune, you aren't welcome in this household!" _

_Stanford could feel the foundation shake as the front door was slammed shut. He was ten stories up, looking down upon the sidewalk as a giant would look upon ants. His twin brother was tiny, miniscule in his eyes. Stan was nothing but a speck of dirt._

_"What?! Stanford, tell him he's bein' crazy!"_

_That voice was right in his ear, standing right beside him, despite the vast distance. Stanford felt his arms move on their own accord, pulling the curtains closed and casting his bedroom is darkness. He tried to retain control of his muscles and yank the window open. It failed._

_"Don't leave me hangin'..." Stanley sounded small, smaller than Ford had ever heard. The plea tickled his eardrums and made him shudder._

_Stanford opened the curtains._

_He was no longer standing at the window. A six-fingered hand gripped the knob of their front door._

_**"You aren't welcome in this household,"** a poor facsimile of his father's words escaped from Ford's mouth. He looked down upon Stan and saw a teenager. Back then they both had seemed so grown up, basically adults. He knew now that they were but children. His grip tightened on the door knob. _

_But he wasn't holding the door knob anymore. Stanford was clutching his twin's shirt, holding him above the ground._

_"Don't leave me hangin'..." Stanley begged. Ford dropped him._

_By the time Stanford looked at his brother's body on the ground, they were in a different place - a different time. Stan was filthy; wearing a burgundy hoodie that hadn't been washed in weeks and sporting a mullet that had so much grease it basically shined. In front of him was a cardboard sign with black marker written on it. 'KICKED OUT BY FAMILY - ANYTHING HELPS'_

_"Hey, stranger. Could you spare any change?" Stanley held up an empty baseball cap towards Stanford. "Don't leave me hangin'."_

_Time flew by in front of Stanford's eyes. Tens of pedestrians became hundreds, became thousands - Stanley's hat remained void of a single penny. The weather became cold and snow began to fall. It piled upon the sidewalk. It piled upon Stanley as he tried to sleep outside, until he was no longer visible. When night turned to day, Stanley never rose from his slumber._

Ford woke up feeling like shit. 

It was better than waking up screaming, but only by a small margin. At least with the more violent nightmares he woke up faster. This dream had been a slow burn, a cigarette held against his skin. 

Slowly, he realized that he was in bed alone. The spot next to him was still warm, meaning that it hadn't been long since Stanley slipped away. Ford looked to the pale sky through the window and then to their shared alarm clock. It was still before school. Back then, he would have been out of bed at least half an hour ago. 

It felt strange referring to it as 'back then', when he was there currently. 

The bedroom door opened slowly and Stanley peeked his head in. He smiled at the sight of Ford sitting up in bed. "Hey, bro. Guess who's having breakfast in bed?" 

Ford blinked, his big brain still stuck in 'morning mode'. "Who?" 

"You, dummy," Stanley chuckled. 

When Stan shuffles into the bed beside him and puts the tray of food on their laps, Ford thinks about how lucky he is. 'Back Then' he had no idea - he was an imbecile who squandered every day he had with his amazing twin brother. He thought that Stanley would always be there for him, that he'd wait for him and stand by his side all his life. He thought that he could do anything and Stan would forgive him.

He had been right. 

The eggs and toast were delicious. Ford had forgotten how emotional horomones made one when they were a teen, he had a hard time keeping himself from blubbering like a fool whenever Stanley did something for him. The other day Stan picked up a pencil that Ford dropped and it took every atom in his being not to pounce him. 

"Something on my face?" asked Stanley. Ford quickly shook his head, cheeks turning pink as he went back to eating. He hadn't realized he had been staring at Stan again. He had been doing that a lot lately. It was hard not to. 

As he shoveled greasy breakfast food into his mouth in the way only a hungry teenage boy could do, Ford made the same vow he made every morning since he woke up here. 

_'I'll do better this time.'_   


* * *

  
“Huh? Again?”

Ford only blinked at Stanley - as if _he_ was the crazy one here! He wasn’t! Probably. The point wasn’t whether Stan was crazy or not - it was that Stanford **was** crazy. 

“What’s so crazy about that?” Ford asked as if he didn’t know.

“Because it’s school!” Stanley waved his arms about. “You _love_ school!”

At least Ford had the sense enough to look sheepish at that. “Well… yes. Missing one day doesn’t mean I hate it.”

“Sixer, only kids who hate school skip an entire week.”

“It’s not an entire week!”

“Yeah, maybe - but missing four days in a row?! Even _I_ don’t do that…” Stanley thought about it. “... often.”

“My grades won’t be in jeopardy just because I miss a handful of days.”

“Yeah, but--” Stan choked on his words, embarrassed and ashamed. “... mine will.”

“Oh, Stanley,” Ford lost a bit of the fight in him. “I’m sorry… I didn’t think.... You can go to school without me, there’s no need to keep an eye on me. I’ll be fine playing hooky without a chaperone.”

_Why go to school if you aren’t there?_

“... It won’t be the same without you,” Stanley said instead.

“I know,” Ford bumped shoulders with his twin. Except he didn’t pull away afterwards, he just stayed there, touching arms. “I feel the same way.”

_Then come with me._

Maybe Stanford was never good at socializing things, like reading people, but he was good at reading Stanley. Stanley wasn’t just ‘people’. He twisted his arm around his twin’s until they were holding hands. “Stanley… don’t let them get to you okay?” Ford didn’t have to say anything for Stan to know who ‘they’ were. Bullies, other students, even some teachers. “The current school system is incredibly flawed. They base grades off of a curriculum that’s borderline archaic and trust young, malleable minds to adults who have no clue how to teach. Your scores have no reflection on your character, Stanley. If they did, you’d be on the honour roll. You’re… you’re amazing, and I look up to you. I wish everyone could see you how I see you.”

Stanley hoped that the sound of his heart pounding in his ears wasn’t as audible as it sounded to himself. He hoped that Ford didn’t notice how sweaty his palms had become as soon as he grabbed them. Most of all, he hoped that his sunburn hid the radical blush on his cheeks. Stanford gave him pep talks sometimes when Stan failed a pop quiz, but nothing like this. He sounded so… _passionate,_ so sure of himself. It sounded like he believed it.

“... Yeah, m’kay,” Stanley managed to say. If he opened his mouth any longer he’d probably say something stupid. Or do something stupid. Like kissing his twin brother. It was difficult.

“I’ll ride with you to school, okay?” Ford offered.

“Sounds good.”

So they drove to school together, like they did most days. Stanford was in the passenger seat, looking out the window as the world went by. It was becoming common to see him staring off into space, thinking about something that made him look a million miles away. The look hadn’t been hard to catch him in before - but normally it would be directed at whatever his current fascination was. Now he just seemed to drift.

“What are you plannin’ for today?” Stanley asked. “Gonna work on the boat again?”

“Not exactly,” Ford said after his brother’s words had gotten through his helmet of daydreams. “I’m going to be gathering materials we’ll need.”

Stanley scoffed. “How? I’m the one with magic fingers - you can’t steal for shit.”

“Of course not! I’m going to purchase it legally.”

“With what money, Pointdexter?”

Ford turned a smirk towards his twin and reached into his pocket. Stan almost crashed the car.

“Is- Is that _dad’s_ wallet?!” he practically yelled. “How did you--?! He’s gonna kill you!”

“He won’t notice,” Ford waved it off. “I’ll make sure of that. Tonight all of his money will still be in there.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Sixer, but you need money to buy things. Specifically dad’s money.”

Ford let out a small laugh, his eyes twinkling with mischief. God, Stanley loved that look. If he was a weaker man, he would kiss it right off of him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t.

“You’ll see tonight,” Ford said.

Stan just sighed and slumped his shoulders. People called _him_ stubborn, but once Stanford grabbed hold of an idea he didn’t let it go for anything. 

“Sure I will.”  


* * *

  
School was just as painful as Stanley predicted. 

It wasn't like it was 'fun' in the first place, but without Ford being there it definitely was… the opposite of fun. Stanley couldn't think of the word at the moment, his brain was still fried from class. Unfun? That wasn't a word, Ford had corrected him the last time he said that. He would know the right word. 

Stan trudged into the house and let out a dramatic sigh, but no one was there to hear it. Their father was probably in the pawn shop, and their mom said she had plans with her friends today. Hopefully Stanford was in their room and done with whatever he had been doing with their dad's money. 

When he opened the door to their shared room, Ford turned around from his work and smiled. "Welcome home, Stanley." The words sparked something dangerous and hidden deep within Stan's heart - which he quickly snuffed out. None of that today. 

"Thanks, Sixer," Stan dumped his bag onto the floor and flopped on his bed. He let out another dramatic sigh into his pillow, lips secretly ticked upwards when he heard his brother chuckle. 

"Long day?" Ford asked, though he didn't turn back to whatever he had been doing at the desk. It was nice, being the centre of his twin's attention. 

"School sucks." 

"That it does," Ford agreed and didn't even sound sarcastic about it. "Did we get any homework?" 

"Yeah. S'in my bag," Stanley lazily waved his arm in the direction of his backpack. 

Laying face down on his bed, Stan couldn't see much, but he could hear his brother stand up from the desk and then rummage through his bag. There was the sound of paper rustling and then the chair being pulled out again. Typical Stanford to get started on homework right away, even if he skipped school. 

Eventually Stanley got bored of laying face down on his bed and rolled onto his side. He leaned over to search through the boxes under his bed and find a comic book he could read. Luck must have been on his side because the first one he grabbed was his favourite: Puma Man Issue #56. It was the final issue in the arc where Puma Man travels in time to save his sister. Stanley read it a million times already, but it was still great. He just had to remember to put it down before he got near the end, or else he would ‘get dust in his eyes’ while Ford was in the room.

He was considering flipping over to face the wall so that he could finish the comic when Ford’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Done!” Stanford leaned back in the desk chair and stretched.

“Hah? Already?” Stanley asked. “That’s fast even for you, Sixer. Did your nerdy superpowers finally awaken?”

“No!” Ford laughed, as if the joke absolutely delighted him. “You already did half of the worksheets, so it was easy.”

Stan cocked his head in confusion. “... What are you talking about? I got you blank ones, didn’t I?”

“Oh yes, I found those. I don’t need them.”

“Well you can’t just use half of my homework! I need that! Besides, it’ll ruin your perfect grades!”

“I’m not doing my homework,” Ford looked at his twin quizzically. 

Stanley was almost rendered speechless. “Wh… So you’re just going to do mine and call it a day?”

“Yes.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“ _‘Why not’_ \--?! ‘Cause you-- you--” Stanley ‘I Hate Homework’ Pines didn’t know the answer to that. "You always say that I need to do my own homework! That I have to learn on my own!" 

Ford scoffed. "Out of all the useless teaching tools that modern schools use, _homework_ is one of the worst. Students are already tired from class during the day, and then teachers blame them when they don't want to work on trite repetition during their limited free time! Don't even get me started on the abysmal range of skills schools find 'useful' - ugh! And the dictatorial stifling of creativity--!"

_"Ford!!"_ Stanley grabbed his twin's shoulders and shook him. "What are you saying?! What are you _doing?!_ This isn't like you at all!" 

With that outburst, Stanford finally seemed to snap out of his 'rant mode'. It had only been a quick shake, to get Ford to focus on him, but his eyes were wide as if Stan were still assaulting him. Stanley spoke before Ford could start on another tangent. 

"Ever since you started having these… nightmares, you've been acting different. I- I didn't bring it up right away because I wanted to respect your space 'n stuff… but you're starting to scare me." 

Stanford looked like Stan just plunged a knife into his chest, but he had to keep talking. If he didn't now, he never would. 

"And I'm - I'm scaring myself, too. Cause you aren't acting like you, you're acting like _me…_ and I hate how much I love it. Maybe all the adults are right… Maybe I am a bad influence on you." 

"Oh, Stanley, no…" Ford reached out and held Stan's forearm, but Stan shook his head. 

"I dunno what your nightmares are about or what they're makin' you afraid of, but you don't ever, EVER, gotta worry about acting differently to keep me around. I like ya- aw hell, I love ya cause you're _you,_ Sixer. I don't wanna be twins with another copy of myself, I wanna be twins with _YOU!"_

Stanley didn't realize he was keeping his eyes shut until he opened them. Somewhere during that embarrassing tirade he had closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to deal with Ford's reaction. Apparently he never needed to worry about that. 

Ford looked like Stan had plunged a second knife into his chest, but in a weird-good way. He looked like mom when her shows got really mushy and the male protagonist came back from being missing so that he could object to the wedding between his girl and his rival. Stanley had never seen that look on Ford before. It made his cheeks heat up. 

"Just…" he was running out of steam at this point, but he had to get his point across. “Just, please don’t keep me out. Okay?”

Stanford could not quiet the gasp he made as Stan lunged forwards, but he could withhold the whine that threatened to escape his throat when he felt himself held tenderly. Carefully, shakily, he moved to return the hug. It was definitely not the first time he was held by Stanley since he had performed the ritual… but it never ceased to take a sledgehammer to his defences. Stan had always been the more physical one while Ford preferred words. As he grew up, he began to dislike touch even more, and it was only now he knew how much he had missed out on. A large part of him still kept the preference not to be touched-- but this was different.

Stanley was different.

He blinked his eyes rapidly against Stan’s shirt, willing himself not to cry. There was no logical reason for him to cry at the moment. He was only being hugged. It was not abnormal. Even on the Stan o’ War II, Stanley had hugged him approximately 1.3 times a day. Ford had had his fill of Stan Hugs after the portal.

But there was something about hugs from a younger Stanley that almost killed Ford. Perhaps it was guilt. Guilt that he never gave Stanley as much affection as he deserved when they were this age. Guilt that he took his twin for granted while he had him.

Or maybe it was the realization that he could have had this, if only he weren’t so lost in his own world. If he weren’t such a fool.

Ford breathed in deep, filling his lungs with Stan’s scent, and then let out a shaky breath.

“Okay…” he said quietly. “Okay. I won’t keep you out anymore.”

Stanley pulled away to look at his brother, and Ford caught himself before he could desperately pull that warmth back into his arms. He smiled down at Ford and held out his hand, curled into a fist except for one finger. “Promise?”

It was childish. They hadn’t done this since they were thirteen-- but the gesture made Ford’s heart do a dance he didn’t want to put a name to. He curled the smallest finger on his six-fingered hand around Stan’s. 

“Pinky promise.”

Stanford looked up at his brother from the chair he sat on, his undeserving eyes blinded by that smile, and he missed a Stanley that didn’t exist anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you left a comment i can 100% guarantee ive read it at least 5 times and smiled every time


	3. is it true

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanford comes clean.

_Ford knew he was in a nightmare as soon as he opened his eyes._

_He knew this place. He knew the feeling and the smell of the air around him. He intimately knew of this time and place because it was one of his most common nightmares - and his worst. His heart seized at the very first glance of the trees. His nostrils flared at the vivid scent of nature around him. Stanford didn’t want to be here, he needed to run away._

_But he knew he couldn’t just leave Stanley there, even if he was but a dream._

_Stan was almost unrecognizable in Ford’s clothes. He didn’t look like the original owner nor the man he was supposed to be. The man he was supposed to be would have smiled, or scowled, or made any expression. This figure had none at all._

_“Who… are you?” Stanley’s voice rang out in the forest clearing. If the scenery was in technicolour, then Stan was greyscale. The clothes he wore, his skin, even his eyes were colourless and dead._

_Stanford had gone through this dream enough times that he exhausted all of his options. Dipper and Mabel were nowhere to be seen, nor their scrapbook. Him and his twin were alone. There was no way that Ford - practically a stranger - would spark any memories within Stanley’s blank slate of a brain._

_Stanley… it’s me.  
Stanley, I’m your twin brother.  
My name is Stanford, and your name is Stanley.  
We’re brothers… twins.  
It doesn’t matter who I am._

_“Where am I?” asked Stanley._

_We’re in Gravity Falls.  
We’re in the forest near the Mystery Shack.  
We’re in Oregon.  
We’re in a dream. This is just a bad dream.  
It doesn’t matter where we are. This is a nightmare._

_“Who… am I?” Stanley said in a small voice._

_You’re Stanley Pines.  
You’re my twin brother, Stanley.  
Your name is Stanley, and you’re my brother.  
You’re my beloved brother, Stanley.  
You’re a hero, Stan.  
You’re **my** hero, Stanley.  
You’re the one I love most.  
You’re the most important thing in my life._

_“It doesn’t matter who you are,” Stanford picked. “It doesn’t matter where we are or who I am. What matters is that I love you.”_

_Stanley stared blankly at his twin as Ford walked closer. There was no reaction as Stanford held his arms, as he rubbed up and down them. He didn’t move an inch when Ford gathered the courage to hold him tightly and when he rested his head on the shoulder of his old trenchcoat._

_“What matters is that I love you,” Ford murmured wetly. “I love you more than anything, and I’m going to take care of you.”_

When Ford woke up, he was still sharing a bed with Stanley. He let out a sigh through his nose and emotionally prepared himself for the sight beside him. 

Stanley slept on, laying on his side with his face towards his twin. The light of early morning cast him in a warm light, making him look soft. Stanford's body moved before his morning brain could catch up and he trailed his hand over Stan's cheek. Panic-fueled adrenaline punched through him and his eyes shot open. He shouldn't - _couldn't_ do this. He would get caught. 

But his body did what it wanted. As his hand traced over the softness of Stanley's cheek, his eyes roved over his long eyelashes down to his mouth. Stanley's lips were slightly parted, and Ford could hear his breath quietly whistling through the gap. They were in the perfect position for kissing. 

God, everything was coming back with an absolute _vengeance._ These feelings of his weren't new, not in the least. He had been around this age, fueled by hormones, when he realized how he felt about his brother. It was not as if he had any other love to compare it to, for he had only loved one person, and it was Stan. 

He had never done anything about it. He couldn't have. It would have been shunned, they would have been destroyed if they were found out by anyone. No, it was safer to keep those feelings to himself. Once he escaped to college, they would most likely wane away. Only distance and time could kill his unnatural love for Stanley. 

And it had, in a way. 

It had stayed buried until the dirt covering it leveled out with the surroundings, and grass grew over the entire area. One would never even know such a thing existed. Stanford even convinced himself it was some kind of 'puppy love'.

He had already been proven to be a fool multiple times when he finally acknowledged his love had never left. 

By then it was too late. What he had with Stanley was too precious to throw away on some selfish whim. Not again. Coming clean about his feelings meant jeopardizing everything they had, everything they had worked through together to get there. Ford was happy on the Stan o' War II with his brother. He didn't need to tell him. He didn't need his feelings reciprocated. As long as Stanley was there, he was happy. 

Then Stanley wasn't there anymore. 

Having Stanley in front of him right at that moment, close enough to touch and feel and _breathe in,_ it killed Ford inside. Losing Stanley only made his feelings that much stronger, that much more _desperate._

How much longer could he hold out?

* * *

Stanford had promised that they would talk today. He had said that he needed to get his thoughts together, and that they should speak somewhere secluded. The two of them agreed that the Stan o’ War would be the perfect spot for that. While Ford gathered the things he wanted to add to the boat, Stanley made them both packed lunches, and they pretended to leave for school together.

More work had been done to the Stan o’ War in the past week than in the last six months. Devices that Stanley couldn’t pinpoint the purpose of were attached to the steering wheel and rudder, and there was a ton of crazy junk below deck. Ford said that it was the backup motor that he was building. Stan didn’t know that Ford knew how to build a motor in the first place. He didn’t question it; his twin was a genius and could probably learn how to build one in an afternoon. He just felt… left in the dark. He missed the times when they knew everything about each other. The Stanford sitting on the deck of the boat with him felt like a stranger.

“So…” Ford said. “What did you want to know?”

“Everything,” Stanley answered without hesitation. Stanford scrunched his eyebrows together in thought.

“That’s… a broad subject. I don’t know where to start.”

“Just start at the beginning.”

“That’s farther away than you know.”

“Then start wherever you feel comfortable. We’ve got time.”

Ford sighed. He lowered himself to his back and slung an arm over his eyes. Stanley waited for him. “My nightmares, then.”

“Okay.”

“They’re… about you.”

“That’s, uh, not so good.”

“You’re not the bad one in the dream, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Ford clarified. “I am. In my dreams I… hurt you. Sometimes I try to fight it, but I’m always dragged along in the end. In one of them I’m burning you with a brand, in another one I’m at fault for getting you kicked out of our home, and sometimes you--” Ford choked on his words, hating even the thought of saying it aloud. “Sometimes you’re just an empty husk, and it’s my fault.”

Stanley waited for a moment to make sure that his twin was finished talking. After a minute of Ford’s silence he gave his opinion: “No offence, Sixer, but your dreams are kinda stupid. Those things would never happen.”

“They would,” Ford said without looking at Stan. “And they did.”

“I think I would remember if you branded me and I got kicked out of the house!”

“You wouldn’t,” Ford took a deep breath. This was it, the moment of truth. Stanley would think he was lying or crazy, and tell him to come clean with the _real_ truth. He would get angry at Stanford for not trusting him and feeding him some crazy fantasy. Stanford could always stall for time and keep his secrets a bit longer. He could lie, say that they were just dreams. He could keep secrets again. He had done it before many times. His promises to be open were with another Stanley that didn’t exist anymore.

Or Stanley could believe him.

“You wouldn’t remember, because they haven’t happened yet.” Ford could feel his heart trying to burst out of his chest. He clenched his hands, palms slippery with sweat. 

“You sayin’ you can see the future or something?” Stanley asked in a voice Ford couldn’t place. If only he uncovered his eyes and looked at his brother, he would know what that tone meant. He would know what Stan was thinking. He couldn’t do it.

“No. I am _from_ the future.”

From there, Stanford spills out his heart. He tells Stanley about how he got him kicked out by their father, about the ten years apart, and about their tragic reunion. He confesses his idiocy and foolishness in trusting the demon known as Bill Cipher. He sums up his time on the other side of the portal, and what Stanley had done in the meantime in their home dimension. The portal’s reactivation, the consequential rift that had appeared, and how Bill had used it to take over Gravity Falls.

“Wait a sec, I’m a bit confused,” Stanley interrupted and Ford was entirely thankful to have a moment and emotionally prepare himself for the ending. “So this is all part of your nightmares? The end of the world and stuff?”

“No. It was real. It happened.”

“And you travelled in time?”

“Yes.”

“Because the world ended?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“Because of something infinitely worse.”

Ford felt a lump well up in his throat and tears prick at his eyes just thinking about it. Swiftly, he beat the memory back down into the dark recess from which it came. He wasn’t fast enough to stop himself from reliving it, if even for a second. A second was too much. A fraction of a second was too much. He never wanted to think about That ever, ever again.

“What could be worse than the end of the world?” Stanley asked.

“Will you let me finish?” Ford desperately wanted to change the subject. Thankfully, his twin seemed to get the hint, and he backed off with an ‘okay, fine’. “In the future… you sacrificed yourself to destroy Bill Cipher. You and I tricked him by switching clothes so that he thought you were me, and you let him into your head, after which I used a memory-erasing device to… to erase your mind and everything inside of it. Including him.”

“Well… shit,” Stanley eloquently put. “That kinda sucks.”

“Indeed,” Ford sighed.

“But as long as I stopped that Bob Slimer jerk from hurting you, I can live with that,” Stan shrugged.

“It’s ‘Bill Cipher’.” Ford had a hard time keeping his lip from wobbling with emotions. “And that’s what you said then, too.”

“Before I got my head scrubbed?”

“After. You managed to get your memories back with the help of your grand niece and nephew.”

“Grand n--?! You have kids and you didn’t think to tell me that?!” Stanley burst out.

“No, no. They’re _our_ grand niece and nephew. They’re Shermie’s grandkids.”

“Oh…” Stanley said, and Ford tried to convince himself that Stan didn’t sound relieved. “Then what?”

“After you got your memories back and the kids went back home at the end of summer, you and I went sailing together. We bought a boat and named it ‘The Stan o’ War II’, which we used to sail around the world and hunt anomalies. Like we always wanted.”

Ford still had his eyes covered, but he swore that Stanley sucked in a quiet breath. The sound killed him inside. Here he was, fixing his past mistakes, and yet they still haunted him. They still hurt Stanley even though he had come here to explicitly stop that from happening. He shouldn’t have told him. He should have kept his mouth shut. He should have--

“And… we were happy?” Stanley asked quietly, carefully.

Ford forgot how to breathe. “Yes. We were. At least, you told me you were happy. I know I was.”

Silence washed over the two twins again, Stanford having run out of things to say and Stanley not commenting. Until he heard Stan murmur “M’glad.”

Stanford peeled his arm away from his eyes to finally look at his brother - he wouldn’t be able to hide from his reaction forever (no matter how much he wished so). He blinked his eyes a few times, unused to the light of day, and then turned his head. Stanley was no longer sitting, instead he lay beside Ford on his side, one elbow propping up his head. His eyes, normally so bright and full of fire, were focused entirely on Ford. They searched him. They bored into his soul and dug for answers Ford didn’t know the questions to. He had never seen this expression on his twin before. 

But that wasn’t true. He had seen it on Stanley, just not _this_ Stanley. He had witnessed it on an older Stanley, when they lived on the Stan o’ War II together. It had been extremely rare, and even now it made him feel naked enough to shiver slightly.

Then it was gone. “Thanks for tellin’ me, Sixer,” Stanley said.

“You… You don’t think I’m lying to you?” Ford asked, unable to hide the timid tone of his voice.

“Well, gotta be honest, this is gonna take some time to wrap my head around,” Stanley hummed. “But nah, I don’t think you’re lying to me. I trust you.”

Ford swallowed the lump in his throat. God… Stanley really _was_ too good for him, wasn’t he? How did he get so lucky?

“I got a few more questions though, if that’s okay,” Stanley continued.

“Ask anything you want. I'll tell you everything.” Ford said, and for the first time since he had come here, really meant it.

* * *

Stanley listened to his twin for the rest of the day. By the time he ran out of questions, the sun was in the middle of the sky and their stomachs were demanding sustenance. Together they opened up their lunches and dug in. He didn't know how, but Stanford had forgotten how common it was for Stanley to pack their lunches for school. Their mother did it for them when she could, but more often than not she was sleeping in after working late into the night on the phone. 

Stanley knew exactly how Ford had liked his sandwiches when he was younger: roast beef and cheese with lettuce and the crusts cut off. When he was around this age the first time around, he had kicked the habit of taking the bread crusts off in an attempt to act more 'grown up'. Stanley was sitting beside him, eating his peanut butter and jelly. He would always eat the crusts for Ford. 

Ford wondered if he was a bad brother.

“You’re not.”

Shock reeled through Stanford’s system as he whipped around to look at his mind-reading twin - until he realized a split second later that he most likely said that outloud. He coughed into his fist awkwardly. “I, er…”

“You’re not a bad brother,” Stanley reiterated, stronger the second time. “Sure, the stuff that happened was pretty shitty, but it wasn’t only your fault. I did stupid stuff, you did stupid stuff. Everyone does stupid stuff. Sometimes stupid stuff just… happens. Doesn’t make you a bad person, just makes you a human person like the rest of us.”

“‘Human being’, Stanley.”

“Whatever,” Stan shrugged and took another big bite of his sandwich. They ate in silence once again, until they were both almost finished with their food. Stanley spoke up with a mouth full of peanut butter. “Hey… about my future-self or whatever… Did he ever…?”

Ford waited for his twin to finish the question, but a minute passed and still nothing more came from Stan. In fact, Stanley shoved the rest of his sandwich in his mouth instead of talking. “Ever what?” Ford prompted.

“Nothing,” Stanley muttered through a mouth full of bread, looking away from Ford. He wanted to push, but he recognized that Stanley had left him alone when he didn’t want to talk about his reasons for going back in time. Ford decided not to be a hypocrite today. “Jus’... tell me more about my future self… and my future grand niblings.”

Ford did.

* * *

When they ran out of ‘future things’ to talk about, Stanley brought up more lighthearted questions. 

“Do we have flying cars yet?” 

“Only prototypes, but the technology is still expensive.”

“Do we ever go to mars?”

“Not humans, but we sent robots.”

“Was there a robot uprising?”

“No, but technology was growing so rapidly that we were growing reliant on it in some areas.”

“When you were in other dimensions n’ stuff, did you score with any hot alien babes?”

“No.”

“Really? None at all?”

“No!”

“How about hot human babes?”

“Stanley, no!!!”

Stanley laughed loudly and fell over in a dramatic fashion when Ford punched his arm.

“You never told me what you did with dad’s money.”

“Oh, yes that’s right. I bet on horse races and sporting events that I memorized the winners to before I left.”

“Holy shit… How much did you..?”

“I made five hundred dollars.”

Stanley couldn’t stop himself from lunging forwards and plucking his twin off of the ground. He heard Ford squawk as he lifted him into the air and spun him, laughing all the while. “Five hundred bucks!” Stan crowed. “We’re gonna be living it up on the open seas! Just me ‘n you, Sixer! Rich men!”

Ford felt warm and soft in his arms. Lifting the nerd was an absolute breeze, even with the push-ups Ford had been doing every day. His shape felt… right in Stan’s arms. They slotted together perfectly as puzzle pieces did. It was just one of the many things that felt good when they were together.

But what if the money wasn’t for the boat? Ford had said it was for parts, but maybe he had been lying to Stanley in order to ‘fit in’ with the time period. He had mentioned not getting into his dream school the first time - maybe one of the things Ford wanted to do in the past was study at West Coast Tech.

Stanley gently put down his brother, cheeks pink with embarrassment and eyes looking anywhere else. “Well, uh… I mean, now that you’re in the past and stuff, what’s your plan? Whattaya wanna do?”

When he gathered the courage to look at his brother, Ford was giving Stan a look like he had grown a second head. “I’ll be continuing what I’ve been doing this whole time, obviously.”

“Yeah, right, obviously,” Stanley scoffed. “But if someone didn’t know what you mean by ‘obviously’...”

Ford’s look went from curious to fondly exasperated. He tilted his head just a little bit and his eyes crinkled as he smiled at Stanley. “Being with you. of course.”

Stanley forgot how to breathe. In fact, he was pretty sure his entire body was at risk for shutting down completely because his brain was too busy focusing on Ford’s words to operate his heart and other various organs. He was also pretty sure that his mouth hung open like some dumbass fish out of water. Ford had said-- and he was looking at Stanley like-- like--

Like how Stanley looked at Ford sometimes.

He didn’t realize that he was walking forwards until he was an inch away from his brother, maybe even less. He didn’t know how far or close he was to Ford because if he wasn’t touching him or pressed up against him it was too far away. If he couldn’t feel Ford’s breath on his skin or his eyelashes tickling his face then it might as well have been miles away. Countries and oceans away. 

Ford’s expression had changed from fond to confused as Stanley stood there and stared at him, but Stan couldn’t find it in himself to do anything else. He was too cowardly to go farther, but too much in love to pull away. 

And God, wasn't that just the kicker? Stanley was in love with his twin brother. It would have been easier if it was just lust, he could have blamed it on his stupid hormones or his dick - but _no,_ Stanley just had to be entirely in love with Stanford. He wanted to take him out on dates and show him off, he wanted to make him smile and laugh, and he wanted to make him happy. He wanted to kiss him. He could kiss him right now. 

Stanley couldn't help but think about that morning, the feeling of Ford's six fingers gently caressing his face while he pretended to be asleep. 

"Stanley..?" Ford whispered. 

Stanley managed to gather himself. "S-Sorry, Sixer," he took a step back and rubbed the back of his neck. "I, uh, thought I saw a piece of roast beef on your face or somethin'. Just my imagination." 

"Oh," Ford breathed. "Okay." 

"It's getting kinda dark," Stanley went on. "Let's go home before Ma gets worried." 

"Sure," Ford said. Stanley could feel his brother's eyes burning into the back of his head all the way home.

* * *

_Stanford could see the night sky in all of its glory, far away from civilisation and light pollution. An endless amount of stars filled the sky, and even after wandering on the other side of the portal for three decades it still humbled him. The milky way drew his eye as it cut through the inky black sky._

_He knew that he was laying on the deck of a boat, and he knew that he must be somewhere on the ocean, but details evaded him. He wanted to guess that he was in the north, but he couldn't feel a chill. Perhaps it was because the body laying next to him was so warm._

_Stanley put off heat like a human furnace despite the frigid temperatures. Ford felt like a cat, basking in that heat as he looked with affection upon his brother. The clothes of a sailor looked good on him, they fit him well, and not for the first time he wondered if they would fit him just as well four decades ago._

_"Hey," Stanley said, his voice deep and rough from age. "You falling asleep?"_

_"No," Ford said, and he was not lying. How could he sleep when it would deprive him of time he could be spending soaking in Stanley's presence? "Are you?"_

_"Nah."_

_"I miss you," Ford found himself saying, but not knowing why._

_"But I'm here," Stanley said._

_"No you're not," Stanford argued against his will._

_"Sure I am," Stanley grinned at his brother. He reached towards him and placed a paw-sized hand over Ford's heart. "M' right here. Always have been, always will be."_

_"I don't want to wake up," whispered Ford._

_Stanley looked at him with that look again, unreadable, his eyes searching Ford. They flicked over his face, dug past his eyes into his soul looking for answers. Would they find what they wanted? Would they like what they saw?_

_But then the look was gone. Stanley shrugged. "Okay," he said. "You don't gotta right now. I'll wait with you until you're ready."_

_"I'm not ready," Ford whimpered. "I'll never be ready."_

_"I'll still be here when you wake up," Stanley's hand moved from Ford's chest to cup his cheek. "You n' me forever, right?"_

_"Right," breathed Ford._

_Then Stanley kissed Ford on the lips. Ford couldn't hope to hold back the whimper in his throat, couldn't hope to stop himself from reaching out and clutching desperately at Stan's coat. The hand that cupped Ford's face stroked his cheek gently while its counterpart began to run through his hair. Eventually, eons later, their lips parted._

_"I love you," said Ford._

_"Then tell me," said Stanley._

Ford woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont know how betting works
> 
> also no one asked, but chapter 1 is titled after Only Just Begun by The Moth and the Flame, and the title of the fic itself is a line from that song. chapter 2 and 3 are both songs by Tame Impala.


	4. you & i

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley decides to do something about Ford's mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually split this chapter in two, because it was getting pretty long by the end and i still had some shite i needed to add lol. so now its gonna be two chapters instead of 1

Stanley was pretty sure that he was dead.

At least, he was sure that he had died - or that he would die in the future. Time travel was stupid. Sci-Fi movies were always cool but all the science-y stuff was more Ford’s thing. When they got to the _explaining_ Stanley always kinda tuned it out while his twin ate it up.

The point was: Stanley was pretty sure that he had died in the future before Stanford went and traveled back to now.

Ford didn’t want to talk about it, but Stan wasn’t completely clueless. If Stanley had been alive, then surely they would have gone back in time together, especially after all that talk about the adventures they had at sea. Plus, whenever Stanley asked about his future self, Ford referred to him in the past tense. _“What do I look like in the future? Am I still handsome?” “Well, there was an unfortunate time in the 80’s where you had a mullet, but otherwise you kept your looks.”_

The most damning evidence was that sad look Ford always got when talking about Stan’s future self. Like he was gonna puke.

Stanley couldn’t imagine that any normal, ‘boring’ death would make Ford feel the need to go all the way back to their childhood. He probably blamed himself for Stan’s future demise like the overly dramatic guy that he was. Maybe he died while protecting Ford from some alternate dimension space assassin? Or maybe he got some mythical disease on a deserted island that Ford couldn’t brainiac the cure to in time. It had to be something out of one of his comic books. That would only make sense, since this entire situation was basically ripped from them.

**”Wake up, Sixer!!”** Stanley yelled. He yanked the sheets off of his own bed, which they had been sharing.

_(“Hey… since we talked about your nightmares and stuff,” Stanley had mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck. Both of the twins were in their pj’s. “I guess you don’t need me to cuddle-- I mean, share a bed with you. Y’know… since it’s all off your chest now…”_

_“Well… maybe I don’t **need** it anymore,” Ford might have flushed a shade darker, but it had been hard to tell for sure with all of the lights off. “But… I’d like it. If we slept toge-- s-slept in the same bed.”)_

Ford groaned and turned his face into the pillow, attempting to avoid the sunlight while blindly reaching for the blanket. “Stanley… It’s saturday… why are you doing this to me?”

“Because I love you,” Stanley said, the words giving him a bit of a thrill. “And I got plans. Big ones. Up and at ‘em!”

Stanley didn't wait for his brother before skipping down the stairs into the kitchen. His Ma sat at her end of the table as she nursed a large coffee mug, still dressed in her nightgown. She looked up drowsily from her drink and blinked at her son in surprise. 

“Oh, Stanley sweetie,” she yawned and rubbed her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d be up so early. I haven’t started on breakfast.”

“S’okay, ma,” Stanley dipped down to kiss her cheek on the way into the kitchen. “I’m makin’ breakfast for me n’ Ford today. You just take it easy.”

“What’s the occasion?” Ma asked.

“I’m takin’ him on a day trip,” Stanley put a pan on the stove and dropped a slice of butter onto it.

Caryn hummed approvingly. “What a good brother you are. Stanford’s a lucky boy.”

_I’m the lucky one,_ Stanley thought. “He deserves it after working so hard at school.”

By the time the bread was sitting in the toaster and there were two eggs in the pan, Ford was trudging down the stairs. Shuffling the entire time, he walked around Stan as he took his own mug from the cupboard and filled it with coffee. He plonked himself down at the table next to their ma. Stanley snickered as he watched their matching slouched backs and tired expressions. 

“I didn’t know you drank coffee, sweetheart,” Caryn said.

“I do now,” replied Ford, and that was that. Neither of them were anywhere close to awake enough to continue that conversation.

Soon enough Stanley was finished cooking breakfast. He put a plate in front of his brother before digging in himself. Ford was on autopilot as he ate eggs on toast and drank his ambrosia. It was only when he was halfway finished (and Stanley had already tore through his plate) that he noticed the lack of crusts on his toast.

“You cut the crusts off again,” Ford pointed out, his filter missing until at least nine o’clock.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry about that,” Stanley took a second to rub the back of his neck as he washed the dishes. “Forgot that you don’t want me to do that anymore. I’ll remember next time.”

“No!” Ford blurted out, suddenly wide awake at the melancholic tone of voice Stan had used. “No - it’s alright… I’m fine with it either way. I know you do it because you care about me.”

Stanley was glad that the sink faced away from the dining room so Ford couldn’t see how pink his cheeks turned. Meanwhile their Ma smiled into her cup of joe. 

“You two are awfully close today,” she smirked. 

“We’re always close, Ma,” Stan said defensively.

“Sure, sweetie,” she mercifully let the subject go, but continued to smile at her sons.

* * *

"Okay, Stanley, I give up." 

"Really, Sixer? You can't think of anything?" 

"We've gone through every single possibility! Besides, I ran out of questions." 

"You can have more if you want. Twenty questions is kinda small." 

"Well normally one gets a good idea of what the answer is within that limit, but yours is impossible. Are you sure this thing is real? It exists?" 

"Yeah I'm sure! You told me!" 

"I told you about it?" 

"Yeah - there you go! Another hint! Try guessing again." 

Ford huffed and crossed his arms, looking out the window as he considered his options. When him and his twin were smaller, they had come up with the perfect system of figuring out what the answer in Twenty Questions was:

1\. Is it real?  
2\. If yes, is it alive?  
3\. If it's alive, is it an animal or plant?  
4\. If it's not alive, is it man made? 

It became more specific as the game went on, but the two of them had become so proficient at it that they had to come up with harder answers. Currently, Stanley was winning with his. Most of his answers to questions were hmm'd and haw'd, and he frequently went back to change them. Ford had the sneaking suspicion that Stanley was changing his answer against the rules - but at the same time he knew Stan would never cheat. At least, not with Ford. 

"No, I still can't think of anything," Ford huffed. "Just tell me." 

"Okay, but you're gonna feel silly," Stanley grinned while keeping his eyes on the road. There was a pause most likely meant for dramatic effect, but Ford was impatient. 

"Tell me already!" 

"It's…… A molecule." 

Stanford looked at his brother with a slack jaw, watching as Stan tried to bite his lip and keep himself from busting out in laughter. He didn't need to see Ford's face to know how livid he was. He _hated_ being wrong, and he _especially hated_ losing twenty questions. After half a minute, Stanley couldn't stop himself from snorting and the sound made Ford throw his hands in the air. 

"A mole-- a molecule?? Stanley, why did you choose something so obscure? Something so - so-!!" 

Stanley could only laugh harder when he turned away from the road for a second and saw how red his twin's face had become. He took a hand off of the wheel just to slap his own knee, taking extreme pleasure in watching Ford struggle for words. "Bahahaha!! Sixer, your face! Oh - it's so - _pfwahahaha!"_

"Stop laughing, Stanley!" Ford's voice pitched up to a yell, though truthfully the flush in his cheeks was only half from embarrassment. It only got worse as he witnessed the absolute pure joy and happiness on Stan's face. His laugh was the most beautiful music to Ford. He wished that he could record it and play it over and over again. One of the conveniences of the future he missed; the ability to record moments in picture or video easily. 

He wished that he had recorded Stans laughter when it was deeper and more rough, when there was the sound of ocean waves behind him. 

This time he would be able to hear Stanley's laughter through all phases of his life. 

"I don't use scientific terms when playing with you," Ford whipped his head around to look out the window, hiding his pout. 

"That's 'cause I don't know any," Stanley said. "But you know them all, so I can use them. S' what you get for underestimating me!" 

Ford thought about another time when he underestimated his twin, and he fought the urge to turn his pout into a proud smile. "So you're a smart guy now, hm? Should I use scientific jargon now, too?" 

"Hell no!" Stanley laughed. "That's like picking trivia to a movie I didn't watch!" 

Earlier, after Ford had finished eating his breakfast, Stan had already finished his preparations and was dragging him out the door.

_“And just where are you two troublemakers going?” their Ma asked, her tone more playful than judgemental._

_“It’s a surprise!” Stanley called. From the dining room, Caryn could hear her other son say ‘A what? I didn’t agree to this…’_

_“Take care, my sweethearts,” Ma said. “And don’t worry about curfew if you’re too tired to drive, mmkay? Stay the night at a motel. Momma would rather you’re home late than dead.”_

_“Got it, Ma!” said Stanley before closing the door behind them._

“So are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Ford asked, not feeling like playing twenty questions anymore.

“That’s the fifth time you’ve asked,” Stanley chuckled. “What makes you think I’m gonna tell you this time?”

“Because I’m your twin and you love me?” Ford wasn’t above playing dirty. It earned him a fake scowl from Stan, to which he grinned at. Suddenly, the scowl morphed into an evil smirk, and Ford felt his stomach flip. “What are you smiling--”

Stanford yelped and gripped onto the car as it swerved into the exit lane. He heard Stan snicker at his plight and whipped his head around to frown at him. “Stanley! Quit driving like a maniac!”

“Nah,” Stanley didn’t even pretend to think about his answer. “Making you squirm is too much fun.”

Just as Ford opened his mouth to begin a lecture on road safety, his eyes spied a brightly coloured sign on the side of the road. **‘PLAYWORLD - 15 MILES - NOW FEATURING THE NEW “DROP-O-RAMA!”’.** He must have been staring at it with his mouth open like a fish, because Stanley knew exactly what he was looking at.

“Yep! We’re going to PlayWorld!” he singsonged. “I figured since we’re swimming in cash now, we can totally blow some of it here.”

Ford remembered a road trip their family had taken, almost two lifetimes ago now. Stanley had been the first one to point out the sign for PlayWorld, but Ford was the one who was bouncing up and down in his seat begging to go. Filbrick had said that they were going to visit family and not to spend time at some money-waster. He had lectured them for the next hour on how amusement parks and carnivals were money traps, successfully sucking the fun out of the idea. 

But Stan had seen the way his twin stared longfully at the sign on the way home. As a child money didn’t mean much to Stanley, but if it bought a day at the place Ford wanted to go to, then he wanted it.

“You remembered…?” Ford asked.

“‘Course I did,” Stanley puffed his chest with pride. “I remember everything about you, Sixer.” Oh God, was that weird? It was weird. Shit. He sounded like some creep just now. Backpedal, Stan! Backpedal!! “I mean uh--”

“Thank you, Stanley.”

Stan tore his mind away from that train of thought to look at his twin and almost crashed the car. Ford was giving him That Smile, the one that made his eyes crinkle at the edges and his cheeks turn pink. Maybe it was just a hallucination caused by his heart stopping, but he could have sworn that there was a halo backlighting Ford’s head. 

“Y-Yeah…” Stanley swallowed. “No prob.”

_Get it together, Stanley._

* * *

PlayWorld was everything that they had imagined and more; like a carnival but bigger and better. Stanford had told Stan about a few of the crazy dimensions he had been in and the sights he had seen, he just hoped that this amusement park compared. 

Sometimes he looked at Ford and couldn't imagine all the things he had been through. It was hard to when Stan didn't have anything to compare it with. All he had ever known was their hometown of Glass Shard Beach. If he looked back on the past week with the knowledge he had now, he could see a far away expression that Ford would get, and know he was thinking of Then.

But as he looked at Ford's face now, all he could see was an excited teenage boy. Stanley hoped that he could give him a fraction of the happiness that Ford provided Stan just by being around him. 

"So, Sixer," Stan slapped a hand on Ford's back and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him close so that they pressed together side-by-side. "Whaddaya wanna do first? Rides? Games?" 

Ford had been getting better at controlling himself and his traitorous blushes since travelling back in time, partly in thanks to Stan touching him so often. So when he was pulled close to his twin he only flushed a little bit. He scratched his cheek, "I was actually thinking we could hit the food stands."

"Good idea! I'm starvin'. Let's grab some of those pizza's on a stick they got over there." 

Like most teenage boys, Stanley and Stanford used a healthy chunk of their money on junk food. A red slushie for Stan and a blue one for Ford, along with a shared bucket of popcorn that lasted less than ten minutes, and a corndog for each of them. The two of them agreed that going on rides immediately after stuffing their faces was a bad idea, so they went to the games corner instead.

With a grin so bright it could rival the sun, Stanley vowed to Ford that he would win him enough toys to bankrupt the entire park. Ford decided not to point out how that would be impossible with the ratio of price per toy versus price per game. After all, it was the thought that counted. Three rounds of throwing a ball at heavy milk bottles, Ford was holding what may have been described as a stuffed ‘animal’. ‘Animal’ because it was not any kind of Earth mammal Ford could recall. 

He pointed this out to Stan, who laughed and said that he could be the fancy scientist that named the new discovery. Ford said that he would think about it, but truthfully he had already named it after his beloved twin brother.

Stanley blinked as his twin placed the prize back into his hands. He opened his mouth to ask if everything was okay, but stopped himself as Ford rolled his sleeves up and approached the counter. It must have been a skill that Ford got in the Future, because Stan had never seen an arm that good except on television. The girl manning the stall looked just as surprised to see some lanky nerd obliterate all three stacks and walk away with the biggest prize they had. 

Ford took his toy back from Stanley and gave him a smile and a giant bear in return. Damn. How was he supposed to compete with that?

The other games at the park went the same way. Darts, basketball, skee-ball, even those random winner games - Ford was good at _all_ of them. Everytime he won, Ford handed the toy over to Stanley and said “For you.” as if it wasn’t a thing that only _couples_ did! Sure, Stanley was planning on doing the same thing to Ford, but this was different! Ford was the one feeling down about all his time travel bullcrap, not him! Stan wasn’t the one who needed cheering up.

Like the rich men they now were, they both rented lockers to stash their winnings into when they decided to make a dent in the rides. Stanley saw it as an opportunity to turn things around. He would sit next to his twin and assure him, maybe even hold his hand. On all the twists and turns their shoulder or arms would bump and Ford would be able to know that Stanley was with him all the way, no matter what.

Stanley barely lasted two rides before he had to run to the nearest can and upchuck into it. Ford was right there beside him, rubbing his back and saying how they could go on the rides that didn’t involve extreme heights. There weren’t many.

The only one Stan consented to was the ferris wheel, and that was because Ford looked at it in such a longing way. Stanley wondered if his future self ever got over his fear of heights, and if he ever took Ford onto one of these. 

“Let’s go on that next,” Stanley pointed to the intimidating circle.

“The ferris wheel?” Ford asked incredulously. “But you--”

“It’s slow enough. Maybe it’ll help with my… problem,” Stan bullshitted.

“You don’t have to…”

“I wanna. C’mon, let’s go,” Stanley dragged his brother behind him before he could change his mind. He didn’t look back and notice the fond look that Ford had.

It was definitely too quickly that they made their way through the line. Stanley needed at least another hour to pump himself up, but this would have to be good enough. Ford stepped into the seats first, followed by Stan, who squawked as it rocked back and forth. He could feel the blood rushing away from his face, and he was about to back out entirely when he felt a warm six-fingered hand wrap around his own.

Stanley managed to get on the ride.

“So, Sixer,” Stanley rushed out, eager to take his mind off of the sight below him. “Tell me, did you - ah!” The car rocked slightly and Stan gripped tighter onto both the rail and his twin.

“Did I what?” Ford prompted patiently.

“Did you ever meet any space babes in the future?”

“Stanley!” Ford squawked. “I already told you, no!!”

“Hey, I asked if you _scored_ with any space babes! There must have been someone you liked. C’mon!” Stan weedled. 

“There was… no one,” Ford flushed and turned his head, but not fast enough to hide the colour from Stan. 

“What’s with that hesitation, huh? That totally means there was someone! Don’t hold out on me!”

“I - er, that is to say - I…” Ford wanted to pull his hand away, more than aware of how sweaty his palms got when he hid the truth from his brother. He didn’t pull away. “... Fine. There was… one person.”

“Ooooohhhh!” Stanley threw his head back - only to violently whip it back as the car rocked and made his stomach fall into his knees. After a moment of evening out his breathing he spoke again. “Tell me about her.”

“It wasn’t a -” Ford stopped himself abruptly. Stanley couldn’t see his face, but he had the feeling that he had stepped too far. Was this another one of those things about the future Ford didn’t like to talk about? Maybe his long lost love had died in space or something. Stan was about to backpedal and tell Ford he didn’t have to say anything, but Ford went on nonetheless. “It wasn’t a… ‘her’.”

“A what now?”

“It wasn’t a girl,” Ford was almost inaudible with the breeze buffering them high up in the air. “It was a man.”

“... Huh,” Stanley said. He had honestly never considered that. It was just one of the things Stan didn’t think about, like math and homework, Stan didn’t like to think about Ford crushing on anyone. Of course he liked to ask anyways, because even if it was impossible for Ford to like Stan the same way Stan liked Ford, he still wanted to know what was going on in his life. Looking back on Ford’s unlucky history with girls, it made a lot of sense.

“Okay,” Stan shrugged. “Tell me about him then.”

Ford whipped around to look at his twin, mouth open - but then he shook his head. He got that faraway look that always showed up when he was probably thinking of Future Stan, which was the opposite of what Current Stan wanted. He brought Ford here so that he _wouldn’t_ think about depressing future shit. Ugh! He was terrible at this.

“I don’t know why I expected differently,” Ford scratched his cheek with a meek smile. “You reacted similarly when I told you before.”

“In the future-past?”

Ford chuckled. “Yes, in the ‘future-past’. I told you about my inclinations when we were sailing together and you mentioned picking up ‘babes’ at the bar.”

“Hey, dudes can be babes too,” Stanley said. Ford just laughed.

“That’s it. That was exactly what you said back then.”

The smile that Ford was giving Stanley was bright enough to make him want to look away, too bright to stare at directly. All these mixed signals about Stan’s future self confused him. First Stanford was sad when talking about it, now he was happy. What was the truth?

“So you gonna tell me or what?” Stanley shifted the subject back. “About this _‘Mr. Mystery’_ you had special feelings for.”

Ford choked on air and turned red enough for a normal person to think he was asphyxiating, but Stanley knew the shade from when he _really_ hit the nail on the head in making his twin embarrassed. He guffawed at the expression that Ford was giving him and slapped his knee with a free hand, only stopping when the seat wobbled and he was reminded of how high up they were.

"He, uh," Stanford had to look away from his twin again, too mortified to expose his face any longer. "He never knew how I felt… I didn't tell him." 

"What?! Why not?" Stan tamped down the evil little part of him that was relieved. "Any fella would be lucky to have you." 

"... Thank you, Stanley," Ford smiled shyly. "But… there was just never a good time, and then it was too late." 

"Pfft, of course you would wanna wait until the perfect moment to confess," Stan scoffed. "Here's a hint, Sixer: in real like there's never a 'perfect moment' when it comes to love. Sometimes there ain't even good ones. Ya just gotta confess." 

"Yes, I eventually realized that. Unfortunately it was too late when I did." 

"It's never too late!" 

"But it was," Ford said. "He died." 

"Oh…" Dammit, Stanley! How do you keep bringing up these depressing things?! Was the entire future just a giant sad-sack shitshow? Was there anything he could bring up without making Ford look like someone kicked his dog?! "M'sorry." 

"It's okay. You didn't know." 

"But it's not okay!" Stanley threw his hands up in the air, barely registering that it made the seat wobble. "I wanted to take you here to cheer you up, but I still screwed it up!" 

"Oh Stanley…" Ford finally looked at his twin, but Stanley didn't want to see his pitying eyes. "You haven't -" 

"I try to win you prizes, but that was stupid. I keep forgetting that you're like, older than me technically. You probably don't want dumb, cheap toys. Then I try to take you on rides but I end up chickening out so we can't ride more than half of them! I just--" Stanley took a deep breath after his rant, deflating as he let it out in a big sigh.

"I just wanna make you happy, Sixer," Stanley confessed. "Tell me how I can make you happy." 

"You already have," Ford squeezed their connected hands. _You've made me happier than you can ever imagine just by existing._

"You don't gotta say that to make me feel better," Stanley groused. 

"I'm not. It's the truth." 

“Seriously, Stanford, I--”

“No! You listen to me, Stanley Pines,” Ford gripped his brother’s hand tighter and yanked it close so that Stan was forced to look at him. “You’ve made me incredibly happy today. Just by taking me here, you’ve shown me how you pay attention to my likes and dislikes. It shows how you care about my feelings and my happiness. It just proves how kind you are and how I -” 

_How I don’t deserve you. How I’ve cheated time and space just so that I can selfishly bask in your sunlight again. How weak I am that I can’t live without you by my side._

“- And how lucky I am to have you,” Ford gathered himself together. “So thank you, Stanley, for spending your day trying to make me happy.”

It was a habit drilled into him by society, telling Stanley that showing emotions was weak. He fought the urge to look away again and hide his face. Even if he felt blood rush to his face, he convinced himself to keep eye contact with Ford. It was the least he could do to respect how he had poured out his heart to Stan. 

“Yeah, well, it didn’t entirely work,” Stanley mumbled. “I still made you sad.”

Ford raised his eyebrows. “What on Earth are you talking about?”

“I brought up future stuff and you got that sad face. The one you make when you get a B+ on your homework, but worse.”

_That’s because it **was** worse. Worse than you could ever imagine. It broke me. I died that day and now I am an empty husk that fancies itself a human being._

Ford sighed. “Stanley… unfortunately my moments of melancholy are a byproduct of what I’ve experienced. It’s not something that will go away easily… if at all. This doesn’t trivialize your attempts to cheer me up - I just… hope you understand. You caring about me makes me happy, and putting that into action makes me even happier… but I won’t ever be the carefree twin you remember.” Ford squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to cease the stinging he felt. “I’m sorry. I hope you forgive me for taking him away.”

There wasn’t any time to prepare himself. Stanford felt a strong grip on the back of his neck and before he could even breathe he was being pulled in and held tightly against Stanley’s chest. His five-fingered hand wiggled impossibly deeper into Ford’s six-fingered grip and their palm sweat melded together. 

“Don’t say that,” Stanley said, and Ford could have sworn he sounded choked up. “Don’t you ever say sorry for that, Sixer. In fact don’t even say that you did that - that you ‘took him away’ or whatever - because you _are_ him. You’re Stanford Pines. Doesn’t matter if you’re from a hundred years in the future, you’re still my brother. You’ll always be my brother. Always. And it doesn’t matter if you’re sad every time you think about your depressing future stuff, I’m gonna try to cheer you up every time.”

Even if Ford was strong enough to push away from the warmth of Stanley’s t-shirt, which he wasn’t, he would not want to. He breathed in shakily and nuzzled deeper into the comforting touch of another human being. But not just any human being - Stanley. His Stanley. Clever and smart and kind Stanley, wise beyond his years not in philosophy but in his heart. When he had been an old curmudgeon his heart had been made of gold, even if the outside looked like stone. If only Ford hadn’t been so blind the first time.

“What can I do, Stanford?” Stanley asked gently.

“Just…” Ford took in another deep breath. “Hold me until the ride is over.”

And he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is named after 'You & I' by Local Natives
> 
> i am actually amazing at 20 questions, and 'molecule' is a real thing i used to frustrate my mom every time we went on a road trip and played this game. it got to the point where she would just ask 'is it a molecule?' as the first question every time.
> 
> the name PlayWorld is NOT from a real amusement park. its an amalgamation of a park near me named PlayLand and the fact that every park name ends with 'world' or 'land'


	5. one more hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley and Stanford at the amusement park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its short cause, like i said, its just the other chunk of the last chapter. thankfully, its the tastier chunk >:3c

It was simultaneously eons and no time at all until they were low enough in the ferris wheel’s rotation that they had to part. It was almost painful prying his arms away from Ford, but Stanley had to do it. Still, Ford kept his hand in Stan’s until both of them had stepped off the rickety bench, and no one spared a single glance their way. Sure, it may have been ‘weird’ for two boys their age to hold hands, but everyone was too busy trying to get as much out of their amusement park experience to care about what some strangers were doing.

The rest of the visit went by like a dream. One that Stanley had had on many occasions.

Him and Ford spending time together, just the two of them. Laughing and joking, talking about everything and nothing at all. Sometimes not talking, just existing in comfortable silence. They wasted more of their cash on a late lunch at the only restaurant inside the park. A double beef burger for Stanley and a veggie burger for Stanford. They stole each other’s fries and used each other’s ketchup. Both of them bought milkshakes to go and sat in a quieter corner of the park, sharing straws where no one would see them. It gave Stanley a funny feeling in his tummy, knowing that Ford’s lips had been wrapped around the straw in his mouth. If he were a boy desperate for a love he could never have, he might have even played with the idea that it was a kind of kiss.

But he totally wasn't, and he totally didn’t. At all.

They went into the haunted house next. Stanford admired the technical side of the maze while Stanley had fun looking at all of the props. He mentioned that they could totally make some of this stuff at home to scare the shit out of visiting kids during Halloween. Ford would have responded, but a zombie stuck its arm through a window near his head and Ford clamped onto Stanley hard enough to bruise.

“We should leave soon, if we want to get onto the road before it’s dark,” Stanford said later, when they had escaped the haunted house.

“Maybe…” Stanley agreed hesitantly. He wanted to spend more time with his twin, but he knew Ford was right. He looked at the sky and saw the dark clouds in the distance. “Just one more ride. Please?”

“You don’t need to ask me,” Ford laughed at his brother’s child-like begging. “You’re the one driving. Are there even any rides we haven’t tried yet?”

“Uhh,” Stanley looked around before spotting the perfect one. His arm whipped out to point at it. “That one!”

“The--?” Ford choked as his brain finished reading the name of the ride before he could finish saying it. _“The Tunnel of Love?!”_

“Yup!” Stanley grabbed Ford before he lost his nerve. “Let’s go, Sixer!”

Sure, the Tunnel of Love was pretty much only for couples, but Stan could probably pull it off as a joke. Stanley joked around all the time. If he elbowed Ford and made enough comments he could get away with it. Totally. No one said that the Tunnel of Love was specifically for _romantic_ love. It wasn’t the ‘Tunnel of Romantic Motivations’ or something.

After Stanley nudged his brother a few times while making gross kissy faces, Ford seemed to relax. Thank fuck.

The bored-looking operator barely gave Stan and Ford a second glance, much less a first. She prattled off all of the rules: keep your arms and legs in the ride at all times, do not litter in the water, do not drink the water, do not perform any lewd acts in the ride, we will call security. The final _’But most of all, have fun.’_ was a bit lackluster compared to the barrage of rules.

As the Pines boys entered the dimly lit tunnel and Stanley was pretty sure no one could hear them, he spoke. “Hope I’m still cool enough to hang with you, Sixer, now that you’re a badass space pirate and everything.” He was trying to word it as a joke, but his tone was a bit too honest to pass.

“Stanley, that’s plain ridiculous,” Ford looked at him, his face unreadable as the shadow of the tunnel draped over them. “Haven’t you realized it yet?”

“Realized what?”

“I came back for _you.”_

Stanley could feel his world spinning and it had nothing to do with the ride. The sound of water lapping at their boat was drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears. God, he just wanted to die. He felt like he was dying. He must have been, with how much his chest hurt and how his stomach tied itself into knots. How was this real? How was _Ford_ real? An itty bitty part of Stan preferred his twin before he had woken up with knowledge of the future, because he was one thousand times easier to deal with than this.

Listening to Ford talk and watching him look back at Stan was an exercise in discipline that Stanley knew he was going to fail any day now. Fuck, maybe he was gonna fail it today. Ford never looked at him like this before, like Stan was special. No, not just special. Like he was the only other person on the planet - in the universe. Stanley had been confident that he loved Ford more than Ford loved him, but lately he wasn’t so sure. Ford was giving him a run for his money.

It must have been a minute or more that Stanley was staring at his brother. Before, Ford would have broken their eye contact and looked away by now. The Ford now didn’t do that. He stared right back at Stan, eyes not searching for anything. Just… looking. That couldn’t be right, could it? Just looking for the sake of seeing, for the sake of putting something to memory.

He had to ask. He had to know. The question burned at Stanley and set his heart on fire. He couldn’t ever see himself loving anyone but Ford, even after all the shit Ford had said went on between them. Why else would he work for thirty years to bring him back? Why else would he drop whatever he had been doing to come to Ford’s aid after a single postcard? Stanley knew that he could never stop loving Ford _like that._

The question was, did an older Stan ever work up the courage to tell him?

“Ford,” Stanley spoke in the dark, his voice strained. 

“Yes, Stanley?” came Ford’s answer.

“Did I ever…” Stanley thought about how he could ask without revealing his feelings. If he had never told Ford, he didn’t want to blurt it out now like an idiot. “When I was older and we were on the boat… just us… Did I ever tell you anything, uh, weird?”

Ford hummed in thought. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Did I ever… tell you a secret? A secret I kept from you, even though we promised not to keep secrets?”

A scene came to Ford’s mind:

_Stanley laying on his cot, his breathing even and slow._

_Stanford with his head on his desk, the only pillow being his mountains of notes. Sleep beckoning him with her seductive wiles. The light of the moon and stars came through the porthole on the starboard side. The last time Ford had looked up from his work it had been daytime. He was too tired to get up and climb into his bunk. Stanley would scold him in the morning, but he would have to deal with it._

_With the sound of ocean waves and the quiet beeping of machinery as his lullaby, Ford felt himself slip into sweet oblivion. Just as he was about to lose consciousness entirely, his brain registered a sound. It was slow to process, but eventually it realized that it had been Stanley saying his name. yet before he could grunt an affirmative, Stanley had assumed he was asleep and continued talking._

_“Sorry, Sixer,” came a watery whisper. Ford’s instincts injected adrenaline into his body at the sound of his beloved upset and he was suddenly awake. However, instead of getting up to ask what was wrong, he held his breath and hoped that Stan believed he was sleeping._

_“Even now…" Stanley continued. "Even now I’m a coward. You lookin’ at me and tellin’ me I’m brave jus’ fuckin… _kills_ me. My biggest con yet is makin’ you believe I’m a brave guy. M’ the biggest coward on the planet because even fuckin’ _now_ I can’t just tell you that I-- that I…”_

_Stanley sucked in a wet breath and Ford could have sworn he felt Stanley’s tears - but no, they weren’t Stanley’s tears. They were his own._

_“I jus’ don’t want you to hate me, Ford…”_

_Didn’t Stanley know? Didn’t he know that Ford could never hate him? Even at his worst, at his angriest, he couldn’t entirely hate Stan. Everything would have been easier - but Ford didn’t want the easy road. He wanted to love his brother. He wanted to love him with his entire heart, with his whole being. Every single atom that made up Ford loved every single atom that made Stanley. It was written into his DNA, in the laws of the universe. Planets evolved around the sun, one day the galaxy would be enveloped by their star, and Stanford Pines loved Stanley Pines._

_He pretended to shift in his sleep so that he could hide his face in his arms. Ford didn’t want Stanley to know he was awake, to know that he was crying. God… All this time…_

_All this time, Stanley Pines had loved Stanford Pines too._

_But now it was too late. They had so little time left. If Ford came clean about his feelings, Stanley would just feel worse about not telling Ford about his own sooner. No, let him believe that he had only failed to come clean about a dirty secret. Let Stan think that Ford didn’t love him that way also, and that Ford would only be as destroyed as a normal twin brother should be when Stan passed away. Telling Stan now would only be selfish._

_And Ford was done being selfish at Stan’s expense._

Another scene came to him immediately after the first, from something that had only happened in a dream:

_“I love you.”_

_“Then tell me.”_

“I love you.”

_**”What?!”**_ Stanley almost screamed.

Stan didn’t know if he wanted to jump for joy or throw up. Maybe both. It was possible to do both, maybe even at the same time. Fortunately he did neither. He had to make sure that Ford meant what Stan thought he said. Then he could jump for joy and/or throw up.

“I-I said that?” he managed to choke out. “I mean, of course I said that. I say that all the time, that I lo-...love you. Well, maybe not _all_ the time, but--”

“No. You didn’t say that,” Ford interrupted his twin. “I mean that _I_ love you.”

“Wait. Let’s start over - I’m confused. Did I never tell you that I loved you?”

“Okay, let me start from the beginning.”

Ford kissed him.

Stanley could swear that the universe collapsed in on itself and then burst forth into existence once more - or at least that’s what the kiss felt like. Years and years of feelings vindicated and, apparently, returned. He wasn’t making any embarrassing sounds, was he? He could have sworn that he whimpered just a little bit, but hopefully he didn’t. In fact, Stanley was so stunned and focused on what he should do that he forgot to kiss back.

When Ford tried to pull away Stanley chased after him, his hands flying upwards to hold the sides of his twin’s face. He had experience kissing other people, but suddenly all of that knowledge flew out the window. He felt like a goddamn novice - and maybe he was, because this was unlike any other kiss he had shared. This was a kiss with someone he loved. He felt Ford sigh into his lips and relax, and it caused another rush of love to overcome Stanley. Ford felt the same. _Ford felt the same._

Finally they parted. Stanley felt drunk, he felt alive. His hands lowered but Ford caught them, twining their fingers together. The familiar feeling stabbed Stan in the heart. He had always loved those hands. He felt so safe in them.

“Oh,” Stanley managed to say. “Okay. I think I get it now.”

Ford gave him another one of those heart attack inducing smiles. “Good.”

“You wanna…” Stan swallowed, his throat dry. “You wanna get outta here?”

“Yes.”

Stanley was barely aware of the people around them when they climbed out of the ride. He couldn’t hear the sounds of the crowd or the roller coasters. He felt like he was in a bubble, everything around him muffled and far away. His awareness was reduced to the feeling of Ford’s fingers wrapped around his, and the gentle swinging of their hands as they left the park and walked to the car.

Meanwhile, Stanford decided that he could tolerate Stan driving one-handed if it meant that the other was held in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter named after another tame impala song. 
> 
> also updates for this fic may slow down a bit because i got inspo for another fic idea


	6. feels so right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan and Ford begin the drive home - but do they make it before nightfall?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops! It's almost been a year since i updated, Hahaha... Ha... Haaaa
> 
> As you all know a lot of shit happened last year. All right around the time I stopped updating. Basically lockdown happened, my dog dying happened, a friend dying happened- a lot of shite happened in 2020. I took a break from writing. 
> 
> But! I got a new dog. I made new friends. I started writing again-- small things. And now I go to check on this bad boy and whaddaya know! The chapter is mostly finished and collecting dust. So I'm posting it now. I don't need any worries or well wishes from you guys, I'm just here and happy to give you a new chapter. 
> 
> I hope you all have a wonderful 2021.

_In the end, casting the spell was almost too easy._

_Gathering the materials was the hard part. Ford needed chrono crystals, which only grew on a remote planet in dimension 89/\ and were guarded by a squadron of Time Police. Fortunately, he knew how to grow them. From scratch they took a month to fully form. Everything else he could gather from nearby islands if he didn’t already have them on the boat._

_Drawing the circle and performing the ritual would have been much easier somewhere on land with a bigger space, but Stanford found that he couldn’t leave the boat for very long. More than an hour and he would feel a deep sense of sadness in his chest, and ache in his very marrow. Stanley had lived on that boat with him for almost half a century. He had died on that boat. Stanford liked to believe that, if it was anywhere, Stan’s spirit inhabited the Stan o’ War II._

_The day before the chrono crystals were done, Ford called the kids._

_“Hi, Grunkle Ford. How are you holding up?” Dipper asked. Such a smart young man- though not very young any longer. In his mind, Dipper would always be that lively spark of curiosity he met that fateful summer in Gravity Falls._

_“You sound sad…” Dipper said. Ford wasn’t surprised. He was indeed sad. He had been sad for a long time. He said none of this to his great-nephew._

_“Mabel? I can get her.”_

_“Hi, Grunkle Ford! I miss you!” Mabel was so sweet. Ford would miss her. He would miss them both terribly. They were the last beacons of light in his dark world._

_“Do you… maybe want to stay at our place sometime soon? Get your feet on solid land for a while?” Mabel asked. She was always so perceptive when it came to emotions. No doubt the twins wanted him to take a vacation from his self-imposed hermitage on the Stan o’ War II. He hadn’t left it since the funeral._

_Ford’s voice was soft. “That sounds nice, Mabel.”_

_“We miss him too,” Dipper said. He didn’t need to say who._

_The call was short and sweet. All he needed was one last memory of their voices. Just in case it all went wrong._

* * *

Stanley was walking in a dream. 

Or at least driving in a dream. He was thankful that not many people were on the highway, since he kept catching himself daydreaming. With the source of his daydreams sitting next to him, he would have thought that he would drift off less. Apparently not. It didn't matter if Stanford was miles away or right next to him, Stan couldn't help but think about him. 

He tried to sneak glances at his twin, but every time Ford would catch him because he was already staring at Stanley. It made him blush every time and quickly turn back to the road. 

"So…" Stanley tried to talk about something and keep his mind on the road. "Was it everything you imagined?" 

"..." 

"Ford?" 

"Huh? Did you say something?" Ford asked. "I apologize. I was just… daydreaming."

It made Stanley smile, to think that Ford was having the same problem he had. "I asked if the park was everything you imagined." 

"It wasn't," Ford said. When Stan turned to look at him in surprise, he caught him smiling. He couldn't help but smile back. "It was much better." 

Stanley felt himself turning pink. He rubbed the back of his neck. "R-Really? I'm glad." 

"It's all thanks to you, Stanley." 

"Huh?" 

"I had such an amazing time because of you." 

"Y-You don't gotta butter me up, Sixer…" 

"But I mean it," Ford's affectionate voice took a serious tinge. "Today wouldn't have been the same without you." 

Stanley felt a six-fingered hand creep onto his lap and he jolted, his brain overloaded with the new context of the gesture. He pushed down the urge to swerve off of the road and ravish his twin. 

But Ford just continued, "I had fun because I was with you. Honestly, you could have taken me to a garbage dump to spend the day, but as long as you were there I would be happy." 

"Stop! Stop…" Stanley choked. "I'm seriously gonna die if you keep on talking like this. I can't take it." 

Ford squeezed Stan's thigh gently. "Fine, I'll go easy on you for now." 

"Thank you, oh merciful brother of mine." 

"Careful with that attitude, or else I might just start again." 

They both laughed. When the warm sound finally trickled off, Ford still kept his hand on Stanley's lap. Sometimes he rubbed his thumb in comforting circles. It was… nice. Stanley liked the feeling. He also couldn't stop thinking about how Ford's hand was just a bit too high up his leg for 'normal brothers'. 

He took his eyes off the road and glanced at the sky. They were driving towards the dark clouds overhead, which meant that their route home was already being rained on. The sky was darkening, too. Stanley stole a glance at his twin, who was also looking pensively out the windshield. 

"Maybe we should--" "The weather looks--" both of them spoke at the same time. 

"You go first-"   
"No, you-"   
"Stop copying me!" 

They burst out laughing at the same time. Saying the same thing at the same time had always given Stan a funny feeling in his stomach. A good kind of funny. He liked the idea that he and his twin were on the same wavelength. Now the feeling increased tenfold. 

"You can speak first," Ford said. Stanley gulped. This was it - do or die time. 

"I was just thinkin'..." he tried to say nonchalantly. "It's gettin' dark… and it's startin' to rain… Maybe we should spend the night like ma said." 

"Oh," Ford said. 

"'Oh'? What's 'oh' mean?" 

"Just that…" Ford's cheeks were dusted pink. "I was going to say the same thing." 

"Oh," Stan said. 

"Yes." 

"So… we feel the same about this." 

"Indeed." 

"Okay, cool," Stanley settled. "Let's do this." 

Ford snorted at his twin's choice of words (another sound Stan loved to hear). He didn't want to distract Stan from driving, so he tried to remove his hand from his thigh. Meanwhile Stanley had gotten dangerously used to the warmth on his leg and didn't appreciate how it threatened to leave. 

He quickly covered Ford's hand with his own and held it, unsubtly pressing them to his lap. Stanley liked to think of himself as 'experienced' in the art of love 'n junk, but he found himself stripped of all charm now. Something about Ford was different from all the girls he had wooed. He found himself blushing more today than he had in the past year. 

Especially since he could feel Ford smiling at him.

* * *

Ford was walking on air. He had been since he kissed Stanley in the tunnel of love. 

Now, as they walked from the front desk of the motel to their room, Ford was seriously wondering if his feet were even touching the ground. If he looked down to check, he could see that indeed his sneakers made contact with the concrete, but he felt too light for it to be real. He glanced at his twin. Stanley hadn't stopped smiling since they had left the park. Ford didn't think he had either. 

As soon as the door closed behind them, Stanley spoke.

“So… does this mean we’re boyfriends now?”

Something about the label was so adolescent, so childish. Neither of them were truly ‘boys’ any longer. Stanley was on the precipice of adulthood, while Ford was closer to a century old in his mind. Not to mention the fact that they were blood related. Perhaps even more ‘blood-related’ than other siblings, being twins. In all intents and purposes, the term ‘boyfriends’ should not describe their new relationship status.

But Ford loved it.

“Yes,” he answered much too quickly. If Stanley noticed, he didn’t show it. In fact, that smile he had been wearing for the past hour only seemed to grow.

"Yeah?" Stanley asked, just wanting to hear it again. 

And Ford knew exactly what he wanted. "Yes. We're boyfriends, Stanley. That is, if you want to be." 

Ford was taken aback as Stan lunged at him faster than his brain could process. Stanley was kissing him, and Stanford found himself letting out a shaky sigh at the wonderful feeling. Too quickly Stan pulled back, "Yeah I wanna, Sixer! I've wanted to for… Hell, forever." 

"I've wanted to for longer than you've been alive," Ford smirked. 

Stanley raised his eyebrow, and then groaned when it clicked. "You're never gonna let that go, are ya? It's like the 15 minutes between us, but worse." 

"You should respect your elders, Stanley." 

"I'll show ya respect!" 

Stan took the opportunity to scoop his twin, his arms hooking underneath Ford's knees and back. Instinctually, Ford wrapped his arms around the back of Stan's neck. An image came to him then, unbidden: both of them in suits, Stanley carrying Ford off into a car, driving into the sunset. It was impossible of course. Terribly silly. 

Stanley had a way of always making Ford think of silly things. 

He was dropped unceremoniously onto the bed and bounced once before regaining balance. Ford only had a second before he was being climbed over by his twin, their lips meeting once more. Stanley's lips were warm and wet from their previous kiss. Ford wanted them wetter, so he dove in with his tongue. The groan that escaped from Stan made him shiver with want. They were close enough that Ford could feel the rumbling in Stan's chest against his chest, and he answered with a pleased hum of his own. 

Ford couldn't say that he had ever kissed someone for the sake of kissing someone, especially for this long. He would admit that he had tried some things on the other side of the portal. It had been rare, as most of the time he had been focused on the multitude of other options available to him. Why do something he could do anywhere when he could be experiencing the unique features of a dimension? 

Of course, Ford wasn't thinking of any of this. He was busy thinking of Stanley. 

Stanley, who was palming at Ford's hips and waist. "Can I…" he didn't seem able to go a few words without kissing Ford again. "Can I…? Your shirt -" 

"Yes," Ford sighed. "Please. Undress me." 

Stanley groaned and pressed his forehead against his brother's. He wasn't going to be able to last long if he kept on getting so worked up just from Ford talking. Hell, just Ford agreeing with Stan's biggest fantasies was enough to fuck him up. 

They worked together to undo the buttons of Ford's blazer, all the while both of them unable to last a moment without pressing their lips together. It was an addiction neither wanted to kick. 

'Finally. _Finally._ I can kiss him.' 

"Yours too," Ford said. 

Eventually they lay together, the only layer separating them from completely fusing being their undergarments. Ford had wanted this so long, wanted this for an eternity, it was enough just to touch Stan. The heat in his lower body cried for more, but his heart was happy where it was. 

They spent an unknown amount of time laying together, twisting their tongues together, touching and exploring all over until they didn't know who was who. Legs wrapped around legs, hands in hair, fingers trailing across chests to find each other and entwine. 

"Do…" Stanley said between breaths. "Do you wanna do more tonight? We don't have to -" 

"I want to!" Ford said. He couldn't bring himself to care if he sounded eager, because he was. "Can I…?" 

"You can do anything you want to me, babe," Stanley couldn't seem to keep his mouth off of Ford, even if he wasn't kissing him. He sucked and licked at his collar instead. 

Ford groaned at not only the sound of Stanley saying babe, but directing it at him. It sounded so much better knowing it was meant for Stanford. 

"I want to suck your dick, Stanley." 

It was Stanley's turn to groan, "Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want, Sixer." 

They moved in sync to get into the right position. Stanley rolled onto his back while Ford scooted backwards to lay between his legs. He hooked his fingers into the band of Stanley's boxer-briefs and tugged it down. His mouth watered at the sight before him. Being twins, their bodies were mostly the same, but Ford liked to think that Stanley had just a bit more girth than him. 

Ford brought Stan’s cock to his face and looked him in the eyes while he gave it a quick peck, earning him a breathless chuckle. Then he licked it gently, just to taste. It tasted like… well, it tasted like dick. Skin, sweat, and musk - but mostly _Stanley._ Ford breathed deeply through his nose and went to town. It had begun as a sort of show, but eventually Ford was too immersed in exploring every millimetre of Stan’s cock to focus on his own performance. The organ in his hands was quick to fill out entirely as he kissed and licked it.

“Ford…” Stanley sighed. Then he gasped, “Ford!”

Ford had taken the head of Stan’s cock into his mouth. He looked up at his twin’s reactions and playfully sucked on it. He was enjoying how easy it was to take Stanley apart with his mouth. It made him wonder if it would be as easy on any other part of his body. Filing that away for later examination, he went back to focusing on work. 

Stan could feel himself approaching the end rapidly, even faster than normal. Too many factors were working against him to get him as hot and bothered as possible. None of his fantasies could compare with this. 

"Ford, I'm -" Stan sucked air into his lungs like a drowning man as his brother sunk further down his cock. How was he so good at this? "I-I won't last long. Get off-- I mean pull off. Pull off, Ford!" 

He was clutching at Ford's hair as he came. His brain exploded with enough feel-good chemicals to feel the orgasm in his teeth. Stan couldn't hear his loud moans through the rumble of blood in his ears. It was the longest, most powerful orgasm he had ever had in his short teenage life. 

Ford finally pulled off, making an obscene 'pop' sound as he did. It made Stan's dick twitch in interest, though the idea of going again so soon made him ache. Stanford's lips were red and shiny, and Stan couldn't help but stare with an open mouth. 

No words were exchanged as Stan pulled his brother up. They ended up face to face, the air from their panting mouths mixing. Ford jolted and gasped as he felt his twin grab his cock, which was an angry red. Noises came unbidden from him within him as Stan stroked. 

"I won't - I won't last-" Ford admitted in a rush seconds before he followed his brother in an early orgasm. A kind of heady power washed over Stan as he watched his twin shake into pieces above him. So this is how Ford felt when Stan came early. Not disappointed, not ashamed, but flattered. He felt beautiful. _He_ did this. 

Ford moved in for another kiss. A chuckle came from his chest as Stan returned it - and immediately scrunched his face from the taste of his own cum. It only made him want to try harder. 

According to the bedside clock it was barely evening. With their younger bodies they had many hours of love and pleasure to follow, before the sun rose and reality called them back. 

They were happy.

**Author's Note:**

> comments feed my starving family.  
> also they put fuel in my tank for the Writing Machine, which i use to write. its my brain.


End file.
